The Dying Evergreen
by Fireflamesinferno
Summary: Despite the ties that knot their hearts to other people, Rosalie Cullen and Jacob Black find an incomprehensible pull between them that threatens to ruin their lives. And yet, the burn is just too good. *Formerly titled Mechanical*
1. Mechanical

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 1: Mechanical**

AN: No, I don't approve of adultery. Cheating is not cool. Actually, it's really awful. Unfortunately, I firmly believe Rosalie is the type. She may love Emmett, but she's a selfish be-otch. Let's be frank. But I love her anyway. And really, her relationship with Jake is just brewing with possibilities of sexual tension. In a world without Emmett, they'd be an awesome couple. In a world with him, they're doomed. Unless he died. Which I'm not about to kill off Em, so here's this story instead:

**Edit: **Yar, changed the end of this chapter. Because it made no sense in context with the rest of the story.

"Blondie, where the _hell_'d you go?"

If her friggin' nasty scent wasn't smothered all over the mansion, I may have had a fighting chance at finding the Cullen's resident Ice Queen. But unfortunately, wolf instincts come with a little side effect known as overwhelming of the senses. And considering Blondie had clearly made an effort to speed all over the house when she heard me approaching, solely for the purpose of masking her current location…

I stood in the middle of the living room, absently kicking the perfect white couch, probably denting the thing. The scent of sickly sweet amaretto and burnt wood swirled in the air, swelling strongly in every corner. Crap. I couldn't catch the freshest trail with my gag reflex going.

It didn't help that she was home alone.

The Cullen clan had left the day before on a hunting trip to Canada. And Bella decided to take Nessie with them. I wasn't feeling entirely too pleasant about that in the first place, but the fact that they weren't back yet was really bugging the crap out of me. I had spent all morning patrolling the woods, to no avail. They weren't back yet, like Bella had said they would be. And that just plain sucked.

I had put up a huge fight about Nessie going in the first place. Bella wouldn't hear it. She has mother superiority over imprinted soul mate, I guess. And she did say they would be back earlier that morning. But no, they weren't. So I tried to find their trail. I tried their cell phones (who carries cells when hunting?) I even left a couple nasty voicemails that were sure to get me a couple well placed kicks to my shins. I had exhausted every research, and all before lunch, too.

So, tail tucked between my legs, I ran to the Cullen mansion, a man in need.

Why was Rosalie still here anyway? Why wasn't she off hunting with her darling hulk and family? It was a conundrum, especially given her obsessive attachment to Ness.

Not that I cared.

"Damn it, Blondie, if you don't come out from whatever slimy rock you're cowering under, I swear I'm going to dent your BMW. Nice, big ol' dent right in the middle of that shiny red hood."

Nothing. Again.

She really enjoyed screwing with me. I stalked off to the garage, winding through the kitchen to the adjoining door. "I'm doing it!"

Kicking down the door seemed dramatic enough, so I did just that. The wood splintered open, hanging limply off the broken hinges. The sweet aroma of gas and grease and fresh wax wafted out of the room, putting up an effort to mask the obvious swell of amaretto and burnt wood that filled the whole damn house. I finally was able to breathe a little in comfort.

Stalking over to the crimson beauty that was nestled next to the Wrangler, I paused. I loved cars. And the M3 was a gorgeous little European piece. Smashing the hood in could break a little part of my heart, even though Ness basically owned the whole sha-bang.

I stood deliberating over that fact for a moment, long enough to note that the smell of something foul was especially strong here. "Barbie, come out, come out, wherever you are…"

With a snarl and the sound of rolling wheels, half of her emerged from underneath the BMW on a mechanic's cart.

"Something wicked this way comes." I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest. "I knew you couldn't bear to part with your precious car's perfection. God forbid you drive something crapped up."

"What do you want, _mongrel_?"

It was all she said, and her glare looked as though it could cut right through me. Not that it could. Healing fast had its way with evil women.

I hated, no, _loathed_ to admit it, but she looked sort of freaking hot. Her honey blonde hair was normally abnormally perfect. Because she lay across the cart, her hair was splayed out in a tangled halo. There was a small grease smudge on her right cheek, directly across from her beauty mark. She wore an especially grungy V-neck tee, one marked with even more grease spots. Unfortunately, it was damn sexy.

Of course, I immediately crushed these thoughts. She may have been gorgeous, but she was the devil in an angel's body. Who smelled _bad._

"Y'know, Barbie, when I said the whole slimy rock thing, I didn't _really_ think you'd be somewhere filthy. The apocalypse must be on the way. Your hair's dirty."

"Do you actually have a reason to be here or do you just need a break from the fleas?" She sneered at me, dropping a grimy rag on the cement. With a graceful kick, she rolled completely out and shifted to a sitting position on the cart.

I wrinkled my nose. Now I could smell her perfectly. Amaretto wouldn't have been bad if it wasn't mixed strongly with the smell of burning, smoke, and overly sweet almond. The concoction was absolutely disgusting. I couldn't fathom how the hulk bloodsucker could stand to be near her.

"Yeah, they do itch." I ran a hand through my unruly hair and scratched it fiercely. I heard her hiss in disgust. "Now, as much as I would love to give my new blonde joke a run, I kind of have this problem."

"Hm. Don't care." She stood up in one fluid motion, like she was liquid. Stalking over to the drool worthy tool chest in the garage's corner, she began fishing through a drawer.

"Yeah, you do. Where the hell's Ness? Bells said they'd be back by now." I crossed between the leech's Volvo and Doc's Mercedes to stop a few paces from her.

Rosalie's facial expression remained visibly unchanged to the human eye as she continued to fish through a vast collection of wrenches. I noticed, however, that her jaw line tightened ever so slightly beneath that flawless, ivory skin.

"Don't know." She lifted up a hefty wrench, observed it for a moment, and then replaced it, taking another one instead. "And, even if I did," she turned around with a wicked smirk crossing her full lips, "What makes you think I'd tell _you_?"

What a freaking bitch. Not gonna lie, I was sick of her attitude. I drew dangerously closer. Anger made my muscles tense tightly. I practically had to restrain myself from taking a swing at her perfect little face. And she was little.

I suddenly felt very side tracked by her proximity. Realizing I had never noticed how tiny she was in proportion to me, I felt even more bravado to prod the sleeping beast within. My hand slammed the drawer she had been fishing through shut, and I leaned forward, snarling in her face. "Why are you still here, Ice Queen?"

"None of you business, pup." She hissed back just as vehemently, shifting to the right, moving away from my hold on the tool chest. My other arm shot out, efficiently trapping her against the chest. It was too hot in the garage, and I was beginning to feel very pissed off.

"Nah, I think it is. You won't tell me where they are or what they're doing." She shrunk back against the chest, but her golden eyes challenged me, not unlike a wildcat. Or a wildfire. Anything that would freaking rip me to shreds at the snap of a finger. "So if I can't know why they're not back yet," I continued, daring her to strike me, "Then I want to know why the hell you're here."

She lifted the small wrench she had been holding and shoved it against my chest like a pointer. Hard. The thing dug into my pecs like hell. "Read my lips, fleabag. None. Of. Your. Business."

"Is it the jealousy thing about Ness, Blondie? Because, frankly, that's becoming a little outdated." She didn't flinch, but I could see her eyes darkening with a color that looked almost red. Point for me. "Or, hey, I got one for you." I smiled cockily, denting the tool chest slightly with my fist. "Did you just want to get me alone?"

She hissed at that, like a rabid cat, and the wrench hit the floor with a loud clang. "You wish, _filthy _mutt."

I chuckled slightly, knowing I was close to an answer. For a brief moment, I studied her. Her harsh features were intensely fierce and edged with fury. She looked like she was seriously considering ripping out my throat. I wondered if I was pushing it way too far. But the smell of amaretto burnt wood was too strong and the way she sniffed at me derisively nudged me over the edge. "Oh, I know. Bet it's marital problems. The Incredible Hulk not doing it for you?"

Before I could even fully vocalize the last word, I suddenly found myself slammed against the garage door, my spine bending awkwardly at the metal bracing, and a very tightly clenched fist around my throat. Rosalie stood before me, her eyes a _pulsing_, dark amber. Her teeth were bared and her chest heaved with hatred, despite the fact that she didn't need to breathe.

I was highly disturbed that I actually found the whole look really hot. Like, really damn hot. She stared at me for a moment, severely contemplating an attempt at killing me. She wasn't really strangling me yet, but I could see the lust for it in her eyes.

I became aware that my pulse was pounding with hot blood, and that I too was snarling, ever so slightly. The entire moment was so very animalistic, and freaking on edge. I considered making the move for her and jumping her in wolf form. "Try me, Blondie. Just try me."

"Don't you _ever _talk about Emmett and me again. _Ever._" She squeezed my throat in emphasis, causing my veins to flood with even more throbbing. So there really was trouble in Cullen land. Wow, I hadn't actually meant to hit her in the gut like that. But geez, how was I supposed to know? And at that point, I was so pissed at her anyways, and the garage was just _so damn burning _that it didn't faze me that much.

I saw her gaze briefly flicker to my jugular, watching the pulse of blood there as she dug her perfectly manicured nails around it. I wasn't about to pass up her moment of distraction.

With equal speed and force, I whipped her around by her arm and flipped her against the wall. Just as swiftly, I had her arms pinned above her head in one fist hold. I planted the other hand next to her head pressed my leg forward to keep her pinned. "Gonna suck my blood, leech? Go ahead, I'll let you have a taste." I offered my neck to her, thrusting my head over her should and against the wall.

It was then, that I became acutely aware of our position: her silken lips barely gracing my throat, my leg firmly planted between her splayed thighs, her chest still heaving against mine. Her frozen wrists suddenly felt scorching. I breathed against the cement wall, taking in her aroma. It suddenly occurred to me that it wasn't exactly her smell that was disgusting, just the overwhelming intensity of it. Amaretto burnt wood wasn't half bad. In fact, the scent was utterly wild. I forced myself to draw back ever so slightly, pulling away from those heavenly, unmoving lips. I look her straight in the eye. "What, no takers?"

She didn't respond, and I realized she too was fully aware of the situation at hand. And not opposed to it. Which just about floored me. It was just so…so wrong. Her gaze was no longer infuriated. It was intrigued. Pissed off, definitely. But scared. Thrilled. Hazardous. _Turned on._

I didn't know what to do. Without ever drifting from her hard gaze, I hesitantly brought my right hand off the wall and placed it on the side of her hip. I pulled her flush against me and was too pleased to hear her make a small thrumming noise in the back of her throat. Slowly, I let my hand explore forbidden, frozen territory. She was a secret tundra, one I hadn't realized how bad I wanted to survey until right then. Her stomach was flat, but strong. Her sides were so perfectly curved, but small enough for my large hand to encompass. I flitted past her breast to her collar bone, not brave enough to linger. Even if she would have let me, which I wasn't entirely sure she would be opposed to.

Finally, I cupped her cheek and ran my thumb over her perpetually red, full mouth, feeling the crease in the top and the pillowy bottom. Oh, how _bad _I wanted to kiss her. How terribly, freaking bad. When I moved my hand back to cup the back of her head and feel her hair, I saw her tongue flit out and lick her lips slightly. Oh geez, that was just too much.

And suddenly, the boiling heat in my stomach turned to guilt and shame and something entirely too monstrous for me to comprehend. Damn, I w_anted _her. But we couldn't. We shouldn't. I couldn't do that to Ness. To Emmett. To Bella.

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. The action was all I needed to tell her exactly what was going on in my head. She sighed with disappointment, strangely. "_Damn it."_

"I know, right?" I grumbled aimlessly. Well, now, this was a fine mess. There really wasn't any sort of denial that could make _this_ seem innocent. This was genuine run-of-the-mill screwed up.

She didn't respond, but instead flicked out from beneath my arm, making her way towards the door.

I didn't stop her.


	2. Consumption

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 2: Consumption**

Author's Notes: Again, can I please just say I don't condone adultery. Yes, I think this couple is swell. Sweltering. Ha. But. It's still adultery. In writing this, I'm trying to accurately portray the terrible progress of adultery. If I write a third, fourth, even fifth piece to this little series, it's only going to end in tragedy, because rarely does adultery end in anything savory. So yeah. I didn't intend this to be multi-chaptered, so I'm changing the title, because that only applied to the first part. HM. I own nothing, Smeyer owns the whole freaking lot.

I was thinking about it again.

"_Damn it_, Blondie." I muttered into the downy pillow. The thing smelled strongly of laundry detergent and vampire stink and _freaking _amaretto and burnt wood. I was pissed, to say the least. Of course Rosalie would do the laundry the day I planned on staying the night. Of course she would decide that the guest room bed set needed a good washing.

It all smelled like her. The sheets, the pillow cases, and even the comforter. 'Course, no chance she did it on purpose. Wasn't the point _not _to think about?

But I was. I definitely was. I was thinking about every damn detail—the way her skin _burned _mine because it was so, so cold; the way her eyes smoldered with the sharpest amber; her full, ruby red lips parting under my thumb; the ever present amaretto burnt wood, amaretto burnt wood…

It was all too much. It had been one hell of a week after the Cullens returned from their hunting trip. Sure, I was overjoyed to have Nessie back. She apparently learned quite a few hunting techniques in Canada, and we immediately went to try them out the first chance we got. Thankfully, that got me distracted for awhile.

But Nessie's return meant Edward's too. With Mr. Telepathy around, I had been on constant guard. Anytime a thought of Blondie decided to pop it's damn self into my skull, I immediately started thinking about wolf things: paws, fur, slobber. I figured that was a good enough cover, being a shapeshifting wolf and whatnot.

But, hell, if I couldn't stop thinking about it now. Every time I turned over in the soft sheets, all I could think about was _her_. Every stupid fiber of the bed immediately whiplashed my mind with a barrel of images: her long curls, her statuesque ivory skin, the cool blast of breath on my neck. I knew if I didn't get out of that stupid bed immediately I was going to have some seriously nasty dreams that Edward would pick up immediately and come filet me to pieces (or rip, tear, shred, gut, depending on his mood.)

With that unpleasant thought, I got up, flinging the sheets off my legs. I stretched my arms above my head, letting the chill of the Cullen mansion hit my bare torso all at once. Pulling my askew sleep pants to a more modest place on my hips, I headed out of the room.

The Cullen mansion was strangely dark and silent. I knew Edward, Bells, and Nessie were out in their woodland cabin. I also knew that Alice and Jasper were gone for the evening on a trip to Seattle. Doc was on call, which would probably explain his absence, but the whereabouts of Hulk, Esme, or even Blondie herself were a mystery to me.

I wound my way through the dim halls and into the kitchen. The room was barely lit by a small light that had been left on above the far counter top. The vague glow hardly reached past the general area of the island and the tiled portion of the room. The rest was hauntingly covered in darkness that seemed to seep through the surrounding windows. I yawned, scratching the back of my neck. The blackness of the woodlands outside made me feel perfectly at home in the Cullen's neglected, modernistic kitchen.

I strode to the fridge and cracked it open, cringing at the bright light that streamed out. The Cullens kindly kept the fridge decently stocked, as I was somewhat of a frequent guest. Imprinted mate of one of them, and all. Quickly surveying the contents, I grabbed a half-full carton of Tropicana, yanking the lid off and taking a huge gulp. There were a few good things about vampires, for all their repulsive traits, one of them being their distaste for food. All the more for me. No one yelling if I drink straight from the damn carton.

It was about then that a familiar, poignant scent filled my nose. I reactively took a big whiff, my spine instantly going rigid. Amaretto burnt wood, amaretto burnt wood…

I whipped around, the fridge snapping shut behind me. Past the halo of light from the counter, obscured in the deep darkness of the moonless night, Rosalie Cullen sat perfectly still at the rarely used kitchen table. If I hadn't known she was already undead, I would have thought Blondie had left the building. She was unmoving: leaning back demurely in the chair, one hand wrapped tightly around a crystal wine glass, her perfect face expressionless and dead in the night. Her normally stormy amber eyes were absolutely hollow, the empty irises of a statue.

She stared out the window, lost in the folds of the forest. I had no doubt that she was aware of me, though. Just two weeks ago, before the garage incident, she had labeled my scent as "foul enough to clear a stadium in under sixty seconds."

Of course, now I had reason to think differently. She hadn't been so opposed to me when we had been _pressed up against each other_ in that damn, damn garage.

I briefly toyed with the idea of testing out my new blonde joke (What do you get when you put seven blondes in a freezer? Frosted Flakes), but one look at the way her jaw set and the way her flawless brow dipped low over her eyes, I knew that would have been a bad choice.

Something was very wrong. Ice Queen didn't get upset. Not in the conventional sense. She became mad, furious, annoyed, and all other synonyms of that sort. She was peaceful and calm around Emmett, and almost joyful around Ness. But I couldn't think of a time when I had ever seen her genuinely…_sad._ Did Rose even get sad? Was that possible?

Apparently so.

And apparently I had been standing there awkwardly long enough, too, because her vacant voice made me jump slightly. "You can sit down, Jacob."

I obeyed immediately, weaving my way around the kitchen island and out of the ring of kitchen light. I couldn't recall many occasions when she had ever actually used my name before. Sure, when she was referring to me in the third person, and a few times when she had been particularly irate (though that was more of a _"Jake-ub!"_) To hear my name said like that, like she would say any other name was the final indicator that something was very, very wrong. I entered the dusky dining area, surrounded by glass barriers to the outside world.

Sitting down perpendicular to her, I noticed the stagnant, dark liquid present in her glass. Animal blood, of course. Probably from the gross Ziploc bags on the fridge's bottom shelf that I always avoided. My eyes flitted from the stale crimson to her face.

Up close, I was always immediately stunned by her beauty. I didn't understand how any one of the Cullens could bear to look at her every day, on a usual basis. Her striking, drop-dead gorgeous features were enough to make me pause before saying anything derogatory to her. And now that her smell was more than just a pungent avoidance to me, I found her all the more attractive. Between the heady, I-want-to-drown-in-you amaretto burnt wood, and the heated memories of the garage branded in my brain, I could barely find strength to rip my eyes from her face and speak at all.

"Nice cup of blood you got there." I love how the dumbest thing I can think of immediately came out of my mouth.

Even so, the far corners of her lips move up a fraction of a centimeter. "It's adequate."

I take a swig of my forlorn OJ. "Got to love the occasional midnight beverage."

A silent pause hung between us as I searched for the appropriate thing to say. Besides her mouth, she hadn't moved at all, and refused to look at me. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on some distant point in the woods.

"Where's the rest of the smelly coven?" I immediately knew it was the wrong question, though she barely moved. Nevertheless, her fingertips tightened around the glass, and she flinched, as though visibly punched in the face. Crap, very much the wrong question.

Her response surprised me. "Wouldn't I like to know?"

Oh, well, that certainly spelled it out. Sort of. Clearly she knew where Doc, Jasper, Alice, Eddy, Bells, and Nessie were. That left Esme and Emmett being the offending absent members, and the obvious answer being the Hulk, in flashing neon lights. I gritted my teeth together.

It was particularly difficult to be sympathetic when my gut was screaming to jump her. If that damn attraction wasn't there, I'm sure I could have felt totally bad for her. As it was, I simply didn't like seeing her like this. Which had nothing to do with the reason for it. Due to the fact that she was freaking hot, and I being a red-blooded male, I of course said the wrong thing again.

"Emmett out Hulk-smashing wildlife again?"

On any normal given day, Blondie would have sprouted fangs, horns, or claws and ripped me to shreds for any comment that degraded her man (I always avoid the h-word, because it makes me feel like an ass.) Instead, however, her lips rose into an entirely disturbing smile. It was small, and barely moved her full, red lips upwards. She showed no teeth, and her eyebrows furrowed, a clear sign that it was the fakest damn smile to ever grace her perfect mouth.

"Not wildlife."

Some may like to think that I'm unintelligent (Leah?) However, I definitely caught the rather filthy double entendre there. I kept my gaze fixed on her face, though she still wouldn't make eye contact with me. But the pain that contorted her lovely features when she said that was enough to make me get it. Emmett was cheating on her.

Or something.

"Rose—" I began cautiously, but was immediately cut off.

"It doesn't matter." Her hand fisted around the cup so hard that I thought the crystal would burst, coating the table in shards, splinters, and blood. Blondie took an unnecessary breath, something that I only saw her do when she was particularly furious (or turned on, _damn _garage.) It struck me as odd, because she was neither at the moment. Red lips parting over words and then closing again, Rose took a moment to continue, "It really doesn't. It's happened before."

I became angry. It was the strangest sensation. I breathed in a full gulp of amaretto burnt wood, and it settled in my lungs and rolled into my belly like a livid fire. I suddenly felt so pissed at her—say it—_husband, _that I felt the preliminary trembles of the change roll under my skin. I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise and the wolf boiled beneath my flesh. "Hulk's screwed around on you before?"

"It's been over half a century since we've been married. He gets bored. Most would."

I restrained myself from jumping to my feet. "_Damn it_, Blondie!"I cursed roughly, balling my fists. Then that 'always has to say the wrong thing' tendency caught up with me. Shuddering to control myself, I fixed her with a glare. "_I wouldn't_."

She snapped her head and finally met my eyes. I withered immediately. The profundity and wild hatred and jealousy and throbbing, painful _want _in her gaze made me immediately recant. "I—I mean most guys wouldn't." Bad save, Jakey. I quickly strove to back it up with something substantial. "I mean, you're frigging hot. For a leech"

Her head quirked slightly, her expression becoming unreadable. I again attempted to amend the statement. Damn lack of frigging wit. "And I'm sure you smell awesome to humans and bloodsuckers and all."

Actually, she smelled fantastic to me now (extraordinary, delicious, exquisite.) I continued. "And, well, I guess you're not that bad. Personality wise. When you're around Nessie."

She sniffed slightly. I fell silent, feeling like an idiot.

Suddenly, a muffled sound escaped her throat, something akin to an unwanted gasp. Rosalie rolled her bottom lip into her teeth and fixed her eyes on the glass in her hand, refusing to look at me once more. "Pine and honeysuckle."

"What?" I shot back immediately at the seemingly random statement.

She smiled forcedly, her voice husky and wavering. "Pine and honeysuckle. It's what you smell like up close. Not wet dog. Pine and honeysuckle."

With that, she sinuously rose from the seat and entered the dull ring of light from the kitchen. Pausing at the sink, Rosalie lifted the crystal glass to her lips and downed the rest of the blood. The irony liquid left a metallic gleam over mouth. Without much thought as to what I was doing, I followed her into the halo glow.

She stood with her back turned to me, her hands gripping the edge of the sterling silver sink. Even through her thin sweater, I saw her taut muscles bunch with grief. A small noise escaped her, not unlike a dry sob. I knew leeches didn't cry, but this was pretty damn close.

Leah may have been right about my level of intelligence, because I chose to listen to the rolling boil in my belly rather than the blaring alarm in my brain. With a single long step, I stopped close behind her and slipped my arms around her thin waist.

We stayed like that for awhile, and she didn't move at all in my arms. The statuesque beauty was petrified in a way, and I couldn't begin to guess what she was thinking. As per usual, though, I played her exact opposite. While she was as unmoving as stone, my arms shifted around her soft frame; I breathed warm puffs of air on the curve of her neck; my hands pressed incomprehensible patterns on her tight stomach.

Finally, I tilted my head over her shoulder. After a beat, she did the same, and our eyes locked once more. I was sure, initially, that I had the will to pull away from anything that happened between us after mutually withdrawing from the heat of the garage. The constant nagging of Nessie and I's future relationship pounded in the back of my head. And Emmett, of course. I didn't want to hurt the big lug, because that would have conversely hurt Rose. Now that he was _the reason_ she was hurting, I wasn't so sure I had the will to pull away from the blazing, infuriating enigma that was _her_.

Cautiously, I place a tentative kiss on her cheek, and the taste of her skin nearly made me implode. It was like nothing I had ever had the innate pleasure of tasting before. An urge to never let my lips leave her skin thrummed through me, and left my veins swollen and screaming.

Her amber eyes fluttered shut, as though she couldn't bear to watch. I didn't really give a damn. Let her try to close me out. I knew I wouldn't allow it. She didn't have to see. I'd make her _feel_.

Next, I placed another tentative kiss at her jaw, tracing the goddess angle and indulging the curve with hot breath. I felt a blast of cool air hit my mouth, and I knew she wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss her. It was real, and she was practically begging for me to take the jump. Because somehow, if we hadn't touched lip to lip yet, it didn't seem so fundamentally _wrong_.

I ghosted over her mouth before opening my eyes and being met with the amber feral storm of her own. I would take the damn leap. I'd be the first sinner.

My lower lip had barely made contact, when, with a stunning force, Rosalie shoved out of my arms and disappeared out the open glass porch door. _Damn_ _it_.

Author's Notes: So I'm ultra sorry I took the cliché route and had Emmett periodically cheating. I realize that's a cheap shot, but it's the most viable reason for marital troubles. In no way do I want to Emmett bash. He is just as much a character as these two are. So don't be mad, puh-lease….and…REVIEW. Please and thank you. If you guys want, I can continue. I have a plausible vein to take this on, of around four more segments….but only if someone cares.


	3. Fiery Ice

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter Three: Fiery Ice**

Author's Notes: So, I figure this story will be 5-6 chapters. It's not meant to be supah long. I already have the rest planned out, so it shouldn't be too hard to finish. This chapter is an ironic twist on a scene from the Disney Beauty and the Beast movie. Just as a disclaimer. (also, I own not a small inserted quote from Saenz) I'm thinking, as a switch up, the next two chappies will be from Rose's perspective. It's not that she's easier to write, because she's not. I think I think more like Jacob thinks….lol. But unfortunately, as the next two chapters specifically require a girl's voice, Rose it must be. Otherwise this story might become M, because of boy's dirty minds…icky cooties. So no M. Just T. That is all. Oh yeah, and this chapter is the longest. To make up for the wait. P.S. Thanks for the wonderful reviews, guys!

The morning breathed with integrity.

It was only a word, but it was all I could think of to fully grasp the scene before me. I stood on the back porch of the mansion, staring out into the endless waves of forest: the full, teeming ocean of evergreen fronds. It was one of those rare particular days in Washington where the morning was actually accompanied by a sunrise, and the sky was not heavily burdened with cloud cover.

It was all together a phenomenal sight, the way the gold played across the lazy grass, trickled over the running river, and pierced into the forest line. Nonetheless, it remained dry to me.

I stayed below the shade of the porch overhang, pulling my light sweater tighter over my thin tank top, as if I thought it could block out the sunlight from dancing over my skin. As though it could harbor me from exposure.

And that was it, wasn't it? The game was becoming harder: the ridiculous secrets, the underlying agony, the boiling emotions. I wanted nothing more than to run. That was cowardice, though, and I was certainly old enough to face any sort of damn trouble the other immortals in my life could possibly cause.

Emmett. I wanted to fight with him. I wanted to rage against him, telling him I hated his little ventures with other women. Telling him I hated the distance he was putting between us. Tell him I loved him. But there was, of course, the other problem that was preventing me from telling Emmett any of this.

I ran my hand over the rough wood of the porch railing. A small splinter rose up at the swipe of my finger, and I made a vain attempt to pierce myself on it. Instead, the sliver merely bent back again at the hard compress of my skin. The corner of my lip rose for a second. How was I supposed to confront the man I love and solve our problems, when I was creating a whole other mess behind his back?

_Damn flea-licking mutt._

And then, I smelled a vicious whiff of pine and honeysuckle. The deliciously wild smell rolled into my mouth, and I had to close my eyes for a moment to keep myself from making a noise of contentment. Really, this was getting out of hand.

My eyes snapped open. As though I had conjured him from my thoughts, he stood at the forest line, his toes barely touching the edge of the river. I clenched the porch rail, almost snapping cleanly through the wood.

Jacob Black was at home in the sunlight. While in the confines of overcast weather, or in rain, he appeared feral; yet, the sight before me was all together something different. The way the yellow-gold encased every definition of his muscles; the manner in which it made his raven, shaggy hair glow like the slick hide of a panther; how it made him almost wildly beautiful when a slow grin spread across his face; this was enough to make me growl in anger, fury, and something else entirely.

Life would be so much easier if the men in my life were ugly.

He began to stride forward, and I felt annoyance rise in my stomach. He shouldn't be pleased to see me. This wasn't some sort of light-hearted entertainment we were dabbling with. This was all wrong.

As he reached the porch, I plastered my best scowl over my lips, drawing back into the darkest shade the overhang allowed. He seemed to be not deterred by my face. "Hey, Blondie. How are you doing this fine, sunny morning?

I shifted, glaring at him to cover my slight nervousness. "I don't recall Bella saying _you _were coming over today, dog." She hadn't. Edward and she had gone out to hunt in the mountains again, along with Alice and Jasper. Despite the fact that Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett were home, I had still readily volunteered to watch Nessie. But apparently Bella had felt the need to alert her fleabag friend as well.

"Well, you know, she figured Nessie would want to get some sun, and it's not like you or the rest of the glitter brigade particularly seeks out Vitamin D or anything." He scratched the back of his head, still grinning haphazardly.

Really, was he just stupid? Was he entirely unaware that he almost coerced me to c_heat _on someone I love? How was that not a heavy handed matter to be dealt with? He was certainly being nonchalant. "She's in the living room."

"Well thanks, Blondie." He didn't move immediately though, but shifted his weight to another leg. "So you're sure chipper today. The sunlight really got you down that bad?"

I looked up at him sharply, my lips compressed in a tight line. "You know what, mutt? Take Nessie, and leave me the _fuck _alone."

I didn't look at him as he passed into the house. I moved slightly out of the range of any of the adjoining doors and windows, slinking into more shade.

Really, I knew it was slightly overkill of me to suddenly react to him so harshly when we were technically supposed to be trying the "friends" thing. I definitely didn't give a damn, though. Fate was an unnaturally cold bitch, as Jacob Black was now and forever an inseparable factor of the Cullen household.

I reflected on our encounters before the garage incident, the snapping quick fire exchanges we had that bordered on spilling over into a death match showdown. It was easier then. There wasn't _something_ between us.

That's all it was too. Just _something_. I couldn't even define it. Trap it down with words. It just was. It was an explosion, a binding, a destructive force that both terrified me and tempted me to do something entirely stupid with him. I _hate, hate, hated _the way he was changed to me now. The way he didn't smell like hell, the way he had cut back on the horrendous blonde jokes, and the way his face lit up when he saw me.

Nevertheless, though a good portion of me desired to dig my teeth into his neck and rip out that perfect throat, I couldn't help but close my eyes in want at the utter pariah that he was to me.

He was nothing that I needed, but it was undeniable that every ounce of my being _wanted_ him.

That was why I found myself inexplicably stalking into the forest a mere two hours later, tracking behind Nessie and the Beast. The two had passed around the far corner of the house, Nessie's tiny hand disappearing into one of his. In his right hand, he toted a paper bag with some label I couldn't see from my perch. They clearly noticed me, but Jacob kept his eyes steadily fixed on the woods, smirking. Nessie, on the other hand, looked over and waved excitedly before continuing to waltz over to the river bed. The two of them simultaneously leapt over the water, before disappearing past the forest line.

Though I attempted to restrain myself, curiosity got the best of me. Curiosity, of course, intertwined with the motherly fear that Jacob was leading his imprint off to do something inextricably stupid.

I scowled, pulling the hood of my designer sweater over my flaxen hair, blocking out the sunlight. No reason to disturb the entire woodland with the shine of my skin.

The soundless foot fall of my feet barely crushed the detritus, but the smell of wet earth wafted up nonetheless, breathing the scent of my targets. Nessie's sweet primrose drifted up first, and I felt a swell of love in my heart for the girl. I was quickly distracted though by the overwhelming gust of pine and honeysuckle, that _damned _pine and honeysuckle. I took the mixed scent of the two of them into my lungs; one filled me with joy, and the other dropped into the pit of my stomach and made me feel furious, ill, and overwhelmingly wanting all at the same time. I hungrily took one last whiff, and took off running, darting through the pillars of trees.

It didn't take me long to find them. They hadn't exactly been in a hurry. I stopped a good hundred feet from their location, crouching down behind a fallen log's shadow. I knew it would be a mere minute before they could smell me, but I didn't care.

The forest line ended ten feet in front of me, circling around a small clearing. The tall trees towered over the area, creating a proverbial wall of verdant wood. The clearing itself was a mix of matted moss, small boulders, and mulled earth. It appeared as though a stream must have run through the area many years ago, as a winding trench snaked around the circular clearing. In the very middle, though, a hulking Maple stood gleaming in the late morning sun. The rays of light trickled over the wide leaves and cascaded down to create the surrounding speckled shade.

Directly under the tree, Nessie and Jacob were laughing, opening the paper bag the mutt had been carrying. I frowned quizzically, hopping onto the fallen log for a better view. The fleabag hushed Nessie with a smile and guided her back from the tree a few feet. He then helped her grab a handful of what was in the bag and toss it towards the foot of the tree. They paused quietly for a moment.

Then, with a creeping hesitance, three small swallows swooped down from the labyrinth of Maple branches. They hopped onto the seed pile and began pecking greedily. Nessie's bell like laughter rang out, and I smiled in spite of myself.

I immediately felt foolish for suspecting the mutt of doing something stupid. Despite what I would like to think, Jacob Black was not a flea-ridden, musky tramp. Though he was technically immortal for the time being, he was still in fact very human. The way that he grinned haphazardly and aided Nessie in throwing another handful of birdfeed; how his face lit up vivaciously; I couldn't help but remember the very stark, yawning gap between us. His broad, lively laughter merely underlined my thoughts.

I watched as Jacob carefully crept forward with Nessie, placing a small handful of seeds in her cupped palms. The swallows nervously hopped back, warily eyeing the two. Then, slowly, with jerky movements, they came closer before leaping around her and eating from her hands. The pure joy that spread across Nessie's face sent a shock of needy sadness straight to my lungs. Though it wasn't necessary for me to breathe, I still felt like I was choking.

Nessie giggled, before looking up at Jacob and whispering, "Shouldn't we ask Aunt Rosalie to join us, Jacob?" Of course I heard, and remembered that _of course _they would know I was there. Jacob's smile disappeared, and he glanced back to where I was sitting on the fallen log in the shadows.

"I s'pose that would be the polite thing to do, wouldn't it?" He then let a small smirk quirk up the corner of his lips, and he looked at me warmly. "Even if she is being a creepy stalker."

I scowled at him, but let up the expression when Nessie giggled and rose to wave me over. "C'mon, Aunt Rosalie, the swallows are beautiful!"

I paused briefly on the log. Nevertheless, I couldn't deny my adorable niece. I would do anything for her. I slowly drew away from the shadows, a sudden smirk crossing my face. Let Jacob Black see _me _in the sun. A taste of his own game.

I flipped my hood back, crossing the threshold of the dusky woods and into the rays of sun. The effect was immediate. Though all my skin besides my hands, neck, and face was covered, I could still see the effectual glowing aura that surrounded me. Nessie smiled gleefully. She always did find our sparkling skin fascinating.

I was pleased to see I had achieved the effect I had wanted to. I knew that I was stunningly beautiful within the shadow, but I could see that I had completely disarmed the wolf. He stared at me unabashedly, his gaze both awed and simultaneously lustful.

If I could have, I'm sure I would have blushed lightly at the way his mouth slightly parted and the low groan that came from his throat. Instead, though, I smiled devilishly at him, letting him know that _I won_ this round. Let him drool like a mutt. Nevertheless, the way his eyes raked across my gleaming skin (what little was exposed) made me feel as though I was completely unclothed. The sensation was alarming, so I immediately turned my attention to Nessie.

"Auntie Rosalie, don't you want to help feed the swallows as well? It's really lovely." To emphasize her point, the half blood girl raised her hands as I bent down to her level, completely ignoring the still staring mutt to my left.

She touched my head, and I was immediately met by a flurry of images: the swallows were hauntingly beautiful in the way Nessie's mind captured them. They flowed like water in hops and bounds and leaps, singing their souls into the images. I almost drowned in the scorching beauty that Nessie sent into my head, had it not been for the abrupt image of Jacob smiling warmly, erasing the elegant birds. I jerked away, smiling lightly at my niece.

"Yes, I would like to. If you don't mind sharing the bird seed."

"Oh, we don't mind at all, do we, Ness?" The fleabag grabbed the sack and tossed it towards me with no effort whatsoever. I caught it and threw him a nasty look, one which he immediately mimicked in an ugly, exaggerated fashion. Nessie gave him her own look of disapproval.

"I was talking to my niece, Dog." I honestly didn't know why I felt the need to be cruel to him today. It was as though the stupid incident in the kitchen had negated our tentative pact to attempt a friendship. I didn't like that he had seen me so vulnerable, and I absolutely _loathed _the fact that I let him. That I let him see me fragile; that I told him secret wedges in my marriage; that I allowed him to wrap his d_amn _oh-so-nicely muscled arms around me; that I _liked _it.

The fleabag seemed slightly bemused, up to the challenge. "Well, yeah, but as I have partial ownership rights to the birdseed bag, I get a say in who dips their shiny hands in there. Suck up the pride, woman."

I was about to return with a scathing retort, had Nessie not firmly stamped her foot, crossing her arms. "Honestly, you two. You act like children."

Both Jacob and I stared at her, aghast and surprised at her sudden adult-like audacity. Not that that was unusual for my niece. An ear-splitting grin crossed the mutt's face as he chuckled at that. Even I couldn't help but smile warmly at the girl. She really was amazing.

"All right, Wonder Girl, I'll back down." Jake said, sitting down on a protruding boulder at the side of the dry river bed. Nessie seemed satisfied with this and turned to watch the hesitant swallows still swarming around the remaining piles of seed. Over her turned shoulder, I caught Jacob's eye and mouthed _"Good Doggy."_

Instead of becoming annoyed, he genuinely threw me a real smile, one that was both knowing and dangerous. I turned away, grabbing a fresh handful of seed. Nessie hopped to my side, having me crouch down. "Aunt Rosalie, if you go up really slow, the swallows might even eat out of your hands. It's exquisite."

"Now, Nessie, what have I told you about using words Uncle Jacob doesn't understand?"

"He knows that word, Aunt Rosalie. In fact, I think I've expanded his vocabulary by quite an exponential value." Nessie replied, sounding not unlike a professor of some sort.

"Yeah, Blondie, ex-pah-nen-chul." The wolf butchered the word in return, and I laughed quietly with Nessie, returning to hunch towards the swallows. I noticed immediately that something was remiss with the small creatures.

Instead of their previous nervous hopping and hesitant trust, the three swallows now held perfectly still, save their twitching eyes. The beady black bulbs betrayed the birds; fear was leeching into their minds. I frowned. With some nudging from Nessie, I sidled forward. The effect was immediate. The creatures leapt back, one of them fleeing into the safe haven of the Maple branches.

I stopped my advance, dropping the seed and stepping back. The two remaining swallows stayed their stance, refusing to investigate the food I had dropped. Gritting my teeth, I became aware that Jacob and Nessie were staring in confusion, probably puzzled as to the bird's odd reaction. I was not.

A cold, tepid smile crossed my lips, as I attempted to retain a jovial appearance. "I don't think they like me very much, Nessie. I'll leave the bird feeding to you."

"Aunt Rosalie, just try again. They were probably just startled." Nessie looked up at me earnestly, in a way that bruised my dormant heart with grief. I shook my head with a lukewarm expression.

"Go ahead, sweetie. I'll just watch."

I was an undead predator. They could smell it. They could sense it. I was a nightmare to their senses, permeating their small mile-a-minute hearts with terror. Nessie was half human, and though the swallows were slightly off put by her strange sense, the utter life in her put them at ease.

But not me. I was dead, dead, my heart unbeating and my taste for thick blood. The creatures knew, and their bulbous, dark eyes both accused and dreaded me. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to scream; most of all, I felt a gnawing urge to self-destruct. This horror, this reminder of what I was, that I shouldn't _be_, filled me with revulsion toward my entirety.

I suddenly felt as though a subzero frost had surrounded me; for the first time in many, many years, I was physically cold.

And then, it was gone. The ice melted, my glacier dripped into hot puddles, into boiling oceans. Jacob Black stood behind me, his hand on the small of my back. His voice pooled over my neck like a warm beach breeze. "C'mon, Rose, it'll be ok. They just need to gain a little trust."

I let him lead me forward and into a crouch again. This time, he pooled bird seed into my hands and settled on his haunches behind me: his chest pressed to my back, his chin brushing my shoulder, his infinitely larger bronze hands cupping around my own. The undeniable urge to turn and sink my teeth into his throat suddenly passed through me so strongly, that I had to stay absolutely immobile to let it pass. The most frightening part was that the urge did not resonate from a violent desire, a desire to kill. It came from something else entirely, something just as animalistic and equally terrifying. It was thirst, and thirst was all I knew.

We stayed that way for several minutes.

With creeping hesitance, then, the two remaining swallows hopped forward, pausing jerkily in front of our cupped hands. Taking a leap of faith, the smaller of the two took the final hop and pecked tentatively from the seeds. Nessie laughed somewhere in the background, the delightful bell ringing flowing into the warm air.

His own laughter rolled over my shoulder, strangled my throat, and opened a gaping wound in my chest. The _want _was suddenly so bad, so gripping and consuming, that it rivaled the thirst of a newborn.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He was warmth, heat; vibrant, awful life. His heart pounded against my back. He was the summer to my winter, and I felt as though my glowing skin could dissolve at his voice.

Jacob Black was alive, and I was assuredly dead.

And I craved him more than ever.


	4. Hunger

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 4: Hunger**

**AN:** Alright, so this semester was of hell, and I know that's not an excuse. To make up for it, the longest chapter to date! Lots of drama, lots of crazy shiat, an appearance from Emmett and Bella, and, well, y'know STUFF. Rest assured, this is still very much T, and will stay T. In case anyone gets to the end and freaks out. I ain't planning on getting too spicy…

**Warnings:** Language is somewhat worse here. That's pretty much it. There's super nondescriptive sensuality, but its very mild in nature.

"You don't have to rush," I sat up quickly, the satin sheet pooling around my hips. My torso was bare, but I made no move to cover myself from the harsh air. "It's not like I'm going to ask you to cuddle or anything."

Emmett stopped amidst buckling his leather belt, straightening up. The tight skin across his stomach clenched in stress, straining over the river of blue veins that ducked below his pelvic bones. He ran his tongue across his teeth, his amber irises deepening to a brandy brown. "You don't have to say things like that, Rose."

Moving towards his discarded shirt, he snatched up the rumpled mahogany button-up at a slower pace to appease me. I watched him dress disinterestedly. My husband's body had once been something that I would be transfixed by. The constriction of his smooth planes of tanned muscle was just as lovely as it had always been, but I now regarded him with a strange reticence. It was the same lack of intrigue that one would hold towards a photograph of a male model. Emmett was still virile, but he was unreachable as though he were but a paper replica.

Ironic, considering what we had just done to our forty-fifth king sized bed of the year.

I picked up a discarded book from my nightstand, unashamedly remaining nude from the waist up. Turning to a random page, I falsely pretended to be engrossed by the Hardy novel I found myself perusing. Emmett finished dressing, pausing to gaze at me. I was aware of his empty analysis of my stature, but continued to pore over the words as though I actually cared what I read.

Finally, Emmett strode to the corner of the bed and picked up my white dress I had been wearing earlier. He tossed it to me gruffly, fixing me with a scowl. "Get dressed."

I looked aimlessly at the wrinkled material of the garment on my lap. A guttural snarl rumbled in my chest. "Fuck you, Emmett."

He snorted derisively, opening the patio door. He turned back for a moment, his eyes glazing over a mournful ocher. "You already did, Rosie." With that, he leapt out of the room and into the grey, thick mist.

"_Fuck_ you!" I hoarsely cried out, tossing the novel after him. The heavy book hit the window beside the patio door, immediately shattering the glass with the force of my throw. The shards sprayed in all directions like water droplets, many of them ricocheting off my frozen skin. I barely noticed, rising to stand. The glass on the floor crunched beneath the soles of my feet into miniscule fragments. I cried out again, my voice thick and heaving. "_EMMETT!"_

He did not return. The grey, heavy vapor hung silent outside the balcony.

Grabbing the crumpled dress from the bed, I slipped into it thoughtlessly. The slivers all over the floor formed a sort of odd cosmos, a broken and strange maelstrom on the wood. Absently, I picked up a large fragment close to me. With sickening intention, I ran the piece in a long line down my opposite wrist. The glass barely made an indentation, leaving no mark on the icy sheath of smooth skin. Irrationally and furiously, I ran the piece along my forearm once arm, only succeeding in chipping the piece into smaller sparkling shards that trickled out of my hand onto the floor.

"_Damn it all_." I cursed under my breath. Sleeping with Emmett was a game, a silly, preposterous game that left me in division: my stomach was twisted in sorrow and my chest was brimming with fury. Why, why in _hell _were we still doing it? Why did we spend hours on blatantly empty shows of affection when we both knew it was simply emptying of us of our souls, pooling them on the floor in glass shard Milky Ways? I was tired, so, so tired of going through the motions of marriage without ever really living it.

The worst thing about it, really, wasn't the blatantly empty sex.

It was the sublime, taunting scent of pine and honeysuckle that seemed to curl in the back of my mind and settle on everything I touched. Even with Emmett, golden brown expanses of scorching skin flashed through my mind like a repetitive nightmare. And I _wanted _it to haunt me. I craved every moment of it.

"Rosalie!"

"What the _hell _happened?"

I spun on my heel towards the entrance. Bella stood in the doorframe, her hand still guiltily grasping the brass knob. Behind her, barely held back by her demure frame, Jacob Black anxiously hung in the doorway. I immediately found that I couldn't bear to look at him. His wide, imploring eyes bored a guilty hole in my chest cavity. Instead, I fixated my aghast stare at Bella.

"Bella?"

The younger vampire took a step forward, effectively giving the mutt room to sidle in beside her. She apologetically shuffled her feet, her lovely mouth slightly agape.

"Sorry—I—we heard you scream and then the sound of the window breaking and—"

"What the _hell _did that damn bloodsucker—" The dog started to speak, but Bella elbowed him in the rib. He rubbed his side, miraculously clothed in a shirt today. "Ow! That actually hurts now that you have super human strength."

"Jake! Shut up."' Bella turned back to me. "Sorry—I mean, I know you guys were—I mean, we didn't want to interrupt—it's just the noise, and we thought something was wrong and—"

"It's fine." I swiftly cut her off, lacing my arms across my chest. It was far too easy to immediately put up a cold exterior to match my skin temperature. My composure solidly in place, I looked the younger vampire in the eye. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it, Bella."

"I—okay, Rosalie." The strange beauty turned to leave, giving the mutt a light shove towards the door. She paused then, turning once more back to me. "Are you sure?"

I managed a smile, something that I considered quite phenomenal. Nodding tersely, I made an obligatory wave of my hand. My arm was trembling. If they did not leave soon, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up my façade.

Bella gave me one last concerned look before turning out the door, with Jacob in tow. "C'mon, Jake."

I turned back to the mess of glass, not bothering to see if they both left. Experimentally, I crushed another shard beneath my toes, wishing to the heavens that just one would pierce my stony flesh and draw blood. I needed to _feel _that pain. I barely felt alive anymore. Not that the animated corpse I inhabited, this monstrous husk of a body, could really be said to be living. Momentarily lost in this conjecture, I became vaguely aware of a gradual change in temperature. An exceedingly warm presence moved at my left.

"What do you want, _mongrel_?" My mind flashed to the balmy, steaming garage of many, many weeks ago. There was a strange sensation that day that Jacob Black could actually heat me, that he could raise my temperature from the constant arctic that was vampirism. It was different today.

Much like the day when we fed the birds, our polarity starkly stabbed the pit of my stomach. A peculiar sensation of asphyxiation came upon me: my throat seized and the dead shells of my lungs clenched as if straining for a gasp of air. He was the warming, comforting fire of the sky: the sun rolling in soothing waves that crept under the cells of my skin. In contrast, not only was I physically frozen, but my motionless heart stood like a vacant crypt in my chest, filled with nothing but dust and disease.

He still did not speak.

"What—what do you _want_?" I whispered, the last word coming out in a small gasp. I couldn't do this much longer. This _ploy, _this ridiculous _dance_ we were constantly going through the motions of. I was sick and tired of living the lines of the troubled wife, Jacob Black the niece's disinterested soul mate. We stuck to our script, but inside I was waning with fragility and utter _want_.

He was silent for a moment more, before I heard the glass crunch as he shifted stance. I balled my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms. "What—"

"Say my name." His voice was unbearably thick and hot. My mouth slipped open, and I closed my eyes. I felt him draw nearer, and an agonizingly temperate pool of breath rolled over my shoulder and circled my neck. "_Say it._"

Entirely against my will, the delicious word formed on my lips, sliding pleasurably over my tongue in release. "_Jacob_, I—"

And then he was suddenly there, all around me, his thick arms holding me tightly against his chest, his huge hands clenching me ineffably close at the small of my back and the edge of my hair, his mouth moving insensibly over the crown of my head.

The world seemed to pause.

Something like a sob retched my body. I didn't move. I couldn't. A part of me wanted nothing more than to bury my face in the sweltering smell of pine and honeysuckle that emitted from the soft cotton of his shirt, nothing more than _feel _him with my hands and drink every breath he took straight from his mouth.

I stayed perfectly still, because, in the end, I could not _breathe _back.

Jacob took one long intake of air, burying his noise in my hair before moving back a step, still loosely holding me in his arms. "Rosie, please talk to me." He moved a hand to cup my cheek, his fingers playing at the edge of my ear. "You can tell me. I'll listen." His thumb grazed over the end of my mouth, barely pressuring the curvature of my lip. "I will. I'll listen. I won't say anything, really I won't. Rose…"

I was inclined to believe him. In my life so very full of games and masks, this was an earnest chance to speak about the monsters that tore at my insides. His brown eyes swelled with brutal honesty, and I couldn't refuse him. "We—I—I need to sit."

He immediately drew me to the edge of the bed, sitting comfortably besides me. For a second, I felt repulsion to perching on _my _bed with _him_, especially now that the headboard was snapped once again. If I could have blushed I would have, because the wary, knowing glance he threw the damage filled me with unsettling embarrassment.

Drawing it in, I began to cross my hands. Before I did, Jacob snaked a large, golden hand over and interlaced his fingers daringly with mine. I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Are we forgetting that I'm married, mutt?" I said, probably more harshly than necessary.

Jacob looked at our hands for a moment. He took my ring finger between his thumb and his forefinger, stroking the skin right above where the silver band trapped me. The tan pad of his thumb barely grazed over finger, but every movement sent shocks straight through me.

He looked up, his brow set seriously. "No. I didn't forget." He gave my hand a squeeze and then let go. "But don't say you didn't want me to."

Ignoring the last comment, I crossed my legs and looked away from him. When I didn't speak for a while, Jacob started again.

"I'm sorry—I guess—if I've caused you any problems. I haven't meant to." He leaned back against the far post of the end of the bed, running a hand through his mussed raven hair. "I didn't mean for this—I mean us—to be or do _anything _that would hurt you. You know I don't really give too much of a damn about your leech husband. But if what's going on with us is hurting you, then—"

"_Nothing _is going on with us." I interrupted, straightening the white material of my dress over my thighs. "I want to make that clear, mutt."

He scowled at my words, his eyes darkening to a glare. "Whatever you say, Blondie. What're you so friggin' mad about all the time, then? Undead hormones getting you down?"

I snorted lightly. The wolf really was classless. "Funny, Black. Really quite inspiring humor there."

"We on a last name basis now, Hale? That's cold. And you're freezing to begin with."

"_Leave, _fleabag." I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jacob stood up, as if to go. He paused, though, looking at me with brewing anger in his earthy gaze. Suddenly, he swiftly moved back to the bed, thrusting himself over me and pushing me down on my back.

"No, Sleepless Beauty, I don't think I will." Both of his expansive hands took hold of my wrists, pressing them down onto the mussed comforter. My abdomen curled tightly. Things were getting _interesting_. "Now, you can answer me civilly, and I'll get the hell out of here. I need to know if your problems with Emmett are my fault. I _need _to."

I snarled brutally, imagining how much force it would take to push myself up and bury my teeth deep into the strong gullet of his throat. I could practically taste the boiling, ruby iron of blood gurgling from his perfect russet neck. Licking my lower lip, I let out another growl. "And if I don't answer?"

He looked down at me, considering. His knees dug into the bed on either side of me, and I felt tempted to kick upwards as _hard _as I could. One thumb rolled off my wrist and flicked across my palm in small circles. "I think I'll kiss you."

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Not in _hell_. I parted my red lips, baring my teeth at him. If he wanted the _fucking _truth, he could have it. "And people call me the narcissistic one. This has _nothing _to do with you." I dug a sharp fingernail against his thumb, drawing blood. The cut immediately closed up, but the delicious smell made me moan in hunger. Even his blood was laced with an overpowering scent of the wild woods. "You're nothing more than a damn nuisance that won't get the _hell_ out my head."

I felt the preliminary tremors of the change run through his body then, and I raised a brow. The animal brewed within, running under his taut skin, snarling to be free. He wouldn't dare. A guttural noise came from his throat, and he grasped my wrists tighter. "Good to know I have such an effect on you. Then what the hell is it, Ice Princess? What's so _damn_ wrong with you and the Hulk that he's got you screaming and breaking windows? And drinking blood in the damn dark? And messing around with _me_?" When I scowled at that, he shook his head. "Yeah, that's right, Blondie. You're doing all kinds of sick shit to my head. I can't focus anymore. I want more than anything to stay away from you, but I keep coming right back like a moth to your _stupid_ frozen flame. Do you have _any fucking _idea how insanely sexy you are?"

Electricity shot through my body, coursing through every dry vein. "Jacob, it's not _you_. _I swear_."

"Rose, what—"

"It's Nessie."

Jacob seemed utterly shocked for a moment, his hands going lax on my wrists. I took the opportunity to shove him off and stand to my feet.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Nessie, Jacob. It's always been her." I closed my eyes, before letting out a frustrated howl. "Damn it. What do you know about the way I was changed?"

"Not much. Bella said you didn't want it. And I assume it was Carlisle."

"'Didn't want' it is an understatement. The only good thing about Carlisle saving me is that I had the opportunity to murder the men who raped me and left me for _dead_." I didn't let the shock of that seep in for him, and quickly carried on. "I had my humanity stolen from me. I never had a chance to grow old, to mature. I didn't get to have a wedding where my family could see me walk down the aisle _breathing_. I'm in limbo. I can't change." My voice grew to a low hiss. "_I can't have children, Jacob_."

He stayed silent, but his full lips tightened.

"It's been an issue in the back of my mind since the day I knew what I was. Even after Emmett, even in the happiest throes, it was still there." I paced over the glass, my stone feet crushing a path. "And then Bella became pregnant." I paused at the empty window frame, its edges still dotted with protruding glass. The grey mist outside seemed to thicken tightly around everything it touched, strangling the tall evergreens. I turned back to Jacob. "I acquiesced to her request that I guard her and her unborn child very easily. It wasn't a question of whether or not I had particularly grown to like Bella. She knew how I felt about having children, and he knew I would let nothing take away the opportunity, albeit bizarre, from her."

I expected him to break in, to say something ridiculous that would finally cause me to rip him to pieces, but he remained perfectly still, his forehead wrinkled in intense concentration. I continued, "It was fine for awhile after Nessie was born. Watching her, playing with her, reading to her—it all made me genuinely happy, something I'm sure you've gathered is somewhat of a rare occurrence. Up until then, it had always been Emmett who made me happy, Emmett who pulled me out of the slumps I'm so prone to." I reached out a poised finger and ran it along the edge of the jagged window frame. "It wasn't long before Emmett became jealous of the way I reacted to Nessie, and before I became irrationally angry at him."

Seeing the way Jacob shifted dangerously, I quickly clarified. "Neither of us blame Nessie for what we've done because of her, for what we've become. But Emmett is jealous nonetheless, because Nessie is the one who makes me happy now, genuinely, truly happy. She's my escape from this stupid, damnable vampirism, this living death I'm condemned to. And he's mad, furious, really—rightly so. I don't blame him. In turn, I've been worse. I'm mad at him too. Furious, because I can't have a child of my own, and somehow I'm blaming him for my ineptitude. It's not his fault at all, in any way, it's my body that won't shift, that won't change."

"Rose, it's not—" The wolf started, rising to his feet.

I stopped him, the pain in the center of my chest coming to full fruition, not unlike the rampant lust for blood. "You can barely blame him at all for any of our problems. Ultimately, I caused it. I'm the _damned_ selfish bitch, blaming other people for the messes I make, for the wrecks I cause. For what I feel. I'm the one to blame for every damn problem I have. I'm like a fucking _masochist_." A noise, halfway between sob and a laugh retched from my throat, and I couldn't say anymore, I couldn't say another word to him because now he knew everything. I had exposed and offered him the very naked core of my heart, and the open, seeping wound was too much for me to bear.

He stood quietly, his hands clenching and unclenching, his eyes lidded and his chest tensely flexed. In the silence, I could hear the ever-present throb of his heart, and it made my tongue twitch with desire. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't fed for a while.

The last two times my family had gone to hunt, I had remained behind, starving myself, staving off the hunger with the meager supplies in the refrigerator. Yet, the urge to catch prey and feed had suddenly come back to me as a result of my irritable, emotional upheaval. Denial of the hunt roared in my mind like a demon.

That's all I was, anyway, an animal that was lustfully ravenous for the metallic tang of blood. The hunger grew in my spine, pooling in my hips, burning my mouth. Jacob seemed to become aware, suddenly, of the change in my temperament, undoubtedly due to my eyes. I could almost feel them darkening with famished yearning to a burned, dingy gold.

"Rose…" His voice was hoarse with warning. I could still feel the residual anger between us, but building off it was a tide of something else, something feral, something animalistic, utterly wild and dangerous: an unbelievable, maddening hunger.

The urge to suck his every wildwood vein dry was never so strong before, and I couldn't handle it anymore. Whether it really was the anger, the rawness of my emotions, or the tension between us, I _needed _to eat, to feed that instant. Without another thought, I leapt in a long bound straight out the gaping window and breached the heavy, grey mist.

The gloom was instantaneous. All around me draped a heavy, moist veil that gladly drowned me in its depths. I became aware of the icy, titillating stab of a light rain on my skin. Falling into a hellfire speed run the moment my bare feet impacted on the damp ground, I pierced the curtains of grey and raced into the vague world before me.

Behind me, I heard a cry of my name, undoubtedly the wolf, followed by an ominous howl. I sped up, falling into the comforting limbo of grief, my mind numbing in the miry, opaque realm of the mist.

For a while, I ran without thought, my only drive to be further from _him_. The emptiness of the surrounding vapor was fully welcome, and I became lost in the void with gratitude, welcoming an abyssal euphoria.

Gradually, though, I became aware of the towering pillars of trees, their arms stretching out above me, barring the dull oppression of the firmament from weighing down and suffocating me. The cage of the forest was familiar ground, a vault full of hot smells and cold laws, where I was the predator at the top of the chain of command, and death was mine to deal. The detritus boiled with earthy fumes, swelling around me and whispering secrets to me. My heels crashed down, filthy with mud, unleashing the clandestine location of potential victims with every pound of my feet.

A rabbit there—a lynx in the hollow—finally, a rancid waft of urine sprang up from the ground, selling the presence of a large stag. I caught the trail in my nose, and the forest world was gone. An invisible line lay out in front of me, and it spelled out the path of the stag with hesitant releases of sweat and short puffs of animal breath. I took no moment to hesitate, and purged the way before me with breakneck speed.

The trees became vaulting boards, the rocks merely aiding me in tracing the path of my prey. It was not long before the delicious pulsating beat of the creature's heart permeated my hunting stupor and my hungerlust reached a crescendo. Our dance was nearly finished.

My singular focus kept me from the rest of the woodland realm, but not from the sudden wisp of a smell that carried on the rain. Pine and honeysuckle dripped across my firmly pressed lips and I let out a primal snarl. Another predator had chosen me as his prey.

I ran faster, clearing a small ravine over a creek with little thought. The stag was too close to give up; my path was relentless. Yet, I could now make out an incessant thumping of paws hitting the forest floor not far behind me. The beat was like a war drum, warning of competition, of conflict. My mind refused to process anything but the hunt, even though the balmy forest had spied my wolfen stalker and gave hail to his close flight.

And, as I ripped over a verdantly mossy boulder, the stag came into sight, running in a fierce panic. Its eyes were wide with near-catatonic fear, a beady onyx. I could see its brown flanks gleam in the weighty grey light, and my teeth bared in anticipation.

It was then that the massive hide of a russet wolf emerged to my left like a furious, nether worldly hellhound, strings of drool whipping from his open jaws. The giant beast cut me off, snapping its huge toothy mouth at the stag and catching it right in the neck. The prey did not stand a chance.

In less than a second, its throat was rent and its life fluids were running free. I had paused atop a nearby mound of detritus, stirring a whirlwind of rotting leaves into the air with my angry sways. I let out a feral snarl at the wolf, a wet growl that warned him to back off.

The creature looked at me, puzzled, dropping the scarlet stained carcass. His sleek head bowed in succession, as though he meant to concede the prey all along. Cautiously, I sidled forward, the smell of the stag blood nearly driving me into a frenzy. Under the brown eyes of the wolf, I pressed my lips to the throat of the animal and drank deep.

I gradually loss awareness of the preternatural russet watchdog, falling into a lull of satisfaction. The warm, irony life fluid tasted of heavens to my tongue, and I dug my fingers greedily into the brown flank, sipping more. I felt the wildness of hunger stave off and I looked up.

Jacob had changed back to human form. In my dizzy fervor, I regarded him as if I were dreaming. I knew something was off, something was different, but I didn't, couldn't, place it immediately.

I met his weary frown, running my gaze down his cheekbones to his open mouth, where a set of sharp white teeth were lightly exposed. Further down, his neck ran in picturesque lines, a sculpted throat of unparalleled proportions. The tanned smooth skin continued to form a clavicle that ran both ways to thick arms, pillars to the chiseled torso and the dark hollows around his abdominals. He was in every way a dark, living manifestation of Michelangelo's _David_, but so much more. Sweat, raindrops, and grime ran in small trickles down his tanned skin, down, down, along his pelvic bones, and—

The something that was different hit me very subtly, almost like a momentary hushed whisper. He was vivacious and filthy and all kinds of feral beauty. And yet, it hit me, this picture was so vividly, hauntingly stark because Jacob had, in his haste, ripped off his clothes in the tremors of the shape-shifting change.

The sated hunger that I had felt redoubled in return, wrenching my bones into a spasm, leaving my chest heaving with starved wanting. Wretched ravenousness coursed through my every fiber, leaving my innards growling with need. I was not filled at all.

I wiped a forearm slowly across my mouth, a trail of crimson pasting my hairs down across my skin. Not losing his unashamed gaze, I dropped the cradled stag to the damp mud.

Jacob stared back at me wantonly, his inflamed need blazing in his wide eyes. What had been a craving, a want, was now in full form. It had matured to a bitter, bitter necessity in the heart of the moist, heavy forest. We were suffocating into a central crux, into a dire conflict where the only sustenance we had, the only air there was to suck in heated breaths, was found in each other. The sodden woods roared with intentional laughter, the humidity striking a match and lighting a wildfire between us.

I rose to my feet, my white dress clinging to my thighs with water, with mire, with red, sticky blood.

Jacob took little time in crossing the clearing, his stride purposeful and knowing and drawn like a caustic, virile deity. I didn't hesitate, and I certainly didn't turn in flight. The heat had become unbearable in the balmy cusp of our game, and I had every intention of rolling the final dice to bring it to an explosion. This cell of lofty trees, this moist womb of the forest would be the only witness to the deliciously anticipated crime.

The proverbial fire roared into a blinding light, crashing with a maelstrom of raw consumption. He deliberately, hungrily claimed my mouth, devouring every corner, sipping tastes and moans of amaretto burnt wood, and sucking out every last wall or fortitude. The smell of pine and honeysuckle asphyxiated my throat.

All hesitation dissipated into the grey vapor curtain.

Jacob Black seared his name onto every inch of my lips, onto every spectrum of my body, and into the clandestine hollows of my mind.


	5. The Shield

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 5: The Shield**

AN: Can I actually make an excuse for the long hiatus? Maybe. School School SCHOOL. Anyway, extra sorry with a cherry on top. As a treat, a ridiculously long chapter. Oh, and we're back to JACOB. Just fyi. Oh, and I realize Charlie is kind of in "don't ask, don't tell" mode in BD, but he's in the know here. Deal.

I adjusted my tie for the sixtieth time, roughly slamming the door to Seth's Jeep Wrangler. He made an unappreciative grunt, shaking his head. The young pup knew I was pissed, but couldn't begin to discern the reason. And why should I be? It was Bella's birthday, which, for all intents and purposes, should have been freaking awesome. Yet, my mind flew a mile a minute, sorting through every inevitably dead-ended option I had to survive.

I was positive the dinner party would be a catastrophe. A complete explosive disaster. I'm talking a mess the size of a frigging _zombie_ apocalypse (a word Nessie had to explain to me after I saw _Zombieland _with Seth and Embry in Port Angeles the week prior.)

I mean, all roads pointed to things going to hell. Bella had invited me to her "dinner" a week in advance, graciously extending it to my pack as well. Seth accepted immediately for both of us, which just plain _sucked_.

Sure, I wanted to see Nessie. And I definitely wanted to be there to celebrate Bella's birthday, despite the fact that she herself hadn't planned the event (apparently Alice _still _insisted on celebrating it, even after the whole post-vampirism-no-aging thing.)

And best of all, because the leeches would only be sipping eerie wine glasses filled with blood, that meant all the food and cake Esme would inevitably cook would go to me, Seth, and Charlie.

There was just one, big, colossal _blonde_ problem.

Said problem had been utterly avoided successfully for exactly two weeks straight. And I hadn't made any effort to see her in return. I had even done an awesome job of phasing out of wolf form the moment any sketchy memories threatened to surface vividly in my mind. But to sit across the table from said hot, dolled up problem while her telepathic brother was only a few feet away? _That _was a ridiculously stupid idea. Phenomenally stupid.

Unfortunately, I had absolutely no excuse to get out of it. I even thought about faking an injury before I remembered the whole super wolf healing powers thing.

Bad plan. Everything was a bad plan. The best plan, unfortunately, was to think the cleanest thoughts I possibly could when I saw her again.

"Cheer up, Jake. Think of all the junk we're gonna get to eat." Seth grinned, fixing his own tie and leading the way to the Cullen mansion. I begrudgingly followed, feeling like a clown in my pressed button up and ironed pants. My stupid tie wouldn't fall right no matter how much I tugged at it.

I wondered if _she_ would have the same problem of keeping her head clear. Judging by the fact that, since our little (giant) episode in the woods, she had avoided me like I had a vampire-killing leprosy, she seemed to be experiencing the same thing I was around her. The way I felt like I could drink her up in one gaze and never be satisfied with just one look. How just the thought of her and her flawless velvety skin, of how I felt, of what we _did_ made my head want to implode in on itself because it was just so absolutely damn consuming. The fact that she didn't resist, that she wanted me too, just as badly, meant that she could very possibly be struggling with the same dilemma of what to do about our thoughts around each other and Edward.

Reaching the doorstep of the ridiculously posh mansion, we paused as Seth rang the doorbell. I shuffled my feet, scuffing the doormat.

No, she was probably more worried about my mind than keeping her own thoughts in check. I was a guy, after all.

It wasn't even the fact that the whole episode in the woods was freaking amazing (which it was), it was the accompanying wave of guilt that punished my stomach every time I thought about anything remotely related to Blondie.

What we had done, no matter how badly we had wanted it, was very, very wrong. Not only had she betrayed Emmett, I had slighted Nessie prematurely, before she was even old enough to truly comprehend what we would be one day. And by extension, we had acted against the whole undead family. Bella and Edward, Jasper and Alice, Carlisle and Esme, the whole bunch. And my pack. I had done something that could actually rupture our tentative treaty with the vampire clan, let alone disturb Sam's even more shaky treaty. To do that to my brothers? That was sick. _I_ was sick.

But how was she? Of course, she had probably crossed paths with Edward much more than I had the past two weeks. Not that I would know, considering I hadn't seen her at all, save for the ever-present smell of burnt wood amaretto that tainted every corner of that damned household. She was doing quite the damn job of avoiding any contact, for fear of who knows what? A reprisal?

Maybe. But maybe she regretted everything.

But did I? Did I regret giving in, playing out the overwhelming, biting desire that wracked every bone and muscle in my body with hunger? Was I remiss at that?

I didn't know.

I didn't have time to come up with a decent answer, because the door flew open. We were greeted by the ever-adorable Alice. She wore an airy emerald dress, one that kind of made her look like some sort of beautiful fairy creature thing.

"Hey Seth! How are you?" Risking a brief hug (quick due to the wolf smell), Alice embraced my wolf brother. The two had struck up some sort of weird camaraderie as of late. Overt optimism was probably their bonding point.

"Great!" Seth replied with a huge grin. "And something smells awesome."

"Esme and I've been experimenting a bit with gnocchi. All for Charlie and our favorite wolves." Alice returned the smile, patting Seth jovially on the arm.

I cleared my throat, "Hey, Alice."

She looked up as though she hadn't noticed me, and I was immediately filled with paranoia. Alice wasn't exactly close to me, but she was still bubbly around me. Her guarded golden glance made me freaking off balance.

"Hey, Jake." She smiled curtly, turning back to guide Seth (and I, by extension) into the house. I suddenly noticed the gloomy Jasper had been lurking in the shadows behind her. He nodded to me, before slipping behind Alice. As we walked into the dining room area, my stomach curled into a knot, and I considered escaping to the bathroom to hurl.

It was about time, though, that this was dealt with. This stupid dancing around each other thing couldn't last forever. I was ashamed to admit that I also felt a small flicker of anticipation. The roof of my mouth began to faintly taste of amaretto burnt wood.

We entered the room, Seth immediately going to chat with whoever was closest. I hung back, my gaze raking the inhabitants.

To my immediate right, the statuesque and pale Carlisle carried a friendly conversation with Chief Swann. Further on, Emmett let out a roaring laugh, teasing Alice and Jasper about something. On the other side of the table, Edward coolly reclined in his chair, bemusedly listening to something Nessie was telling him. The little girl herself looked freaking precious in a white lacy dress, her hair in a long, sleek braid. I almost went over to greet her, when I was stopped by the birthday girl herself.

Bella looked genuinely pleased to see me, her lovely features warming. I had a small pang in my stomach at the way her eyes glowed a crisp ochre; I missed the chocolate brown and the way they seemed to deepen every time she paid me a glance.

Even so, I gathered her in a tight bear hug. I could do that now, as she could take it with her rock hard skin. "Hey, Bells. How's your second vampire birthday treating you?"

Bella pulled back, leaving her hands on my chest. "Oh you know. Painfully awkward." She gestured down to her simple off white dress. "Alice forced me into this thing."

"Well. Even though I know you're suffering, you look very nice."

Her lips quirked in thanks, one eyebrow rising. Very suddenly, something slight in her expression changed. She still looked happy, but something was off, and I couldn't decipher it. After an awkward pause, she put a hand on my arm. "How are you doing, Jake? I haven't seen you around much."

The paranoid lump in my stomach leapt into my throat and I had to remember to breathe. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my dark pants, "Fine, I guess. It's been pretty uneventful."

"Yeah?" She watched me for a moment longer, which made me almost turn and leave the party. My heart was probably racing abnormally fast, and I had no doubt it would soon raise a few brows. Finally, Bella let go of my arm, motioning for me to follow. "C'mon, I'm sure Nessie will be happy to see you, especially dressed up like you are. A rarity."

I smirked in return, "Yeah, I'm not exactly pleased about Alice's enforced dress code."

"Well it's a good thing."

We were abruptly interrupted by Nessie colliding with my legs. Had I not been a heavy wolf man, I probably would have toppled over at the force.

"UNCLE JAKE!" She shrilly cried, burying her face between my knees. A moment later, she looked up at me and crossed her arms. "Where have you been? I've had a lot of important stuff happen this week. How in the world am I supposed to keep you updated if you evaporate?"

"Well, geez, good to see you too, Ness." I bent down and scooped her into a tight hug. She returned it gladly, before pulling back and grinning.

"You know I'm _really _happy to see you, right?"

"Of course."

Above her, I glanced up to see the stony face of Edward. I nodded in greeting.

He returned it with a curt nod of his own, looking off put and angry. By then, I really wanted to hightail it out of here. There's no way they could all know. If they did, I was sure Emmett would have ripped me to shreds by then. Jacob meat pie would be on the frigging menu.

Even so, Alice, Bella, and Edward were acting strange. It had to be something else, though. There was no way they could all know. No way. Unless she told them. Which she wouldn't have. She couldn't have.

While my thoughts turned over this, the lights suddenly dimmed. I glanced to see Esme standing by the switch. Everyone turned to the kitchen door.

I knew full too well that I should have left _right then_. This was my last chance for escape. Last door open.

I didn't take it. Instead, I practically growled at the sight of her.

Rosalie walked in slowly, carrying a fancy cake on an ornate platter. The light of the birthday candles shook and swayed, leaving orange light to dance across the white, flawless canvas of her skin. She looked _ravishing_.

The group began singing, I'm sure, but I didn't notice. Instead, my gaze roved over her every inch, her every centimeter, taking in as much as I possibly could in the dark light. She was wearing a slinky black dress, the kind that should be outlawed. The material moved like a second skin, hugging her hips in a tight, perfect grip. The contrast between the silky onyx and her marble white skin was ridiculously stark, and left every plane of the exposed flesh practically lustrous in the flickering, hypnotic candle light. And her face. _Damn, _her face.

In a halo of blonde flowing locks, her face was lit with a back glow, highlighted and accentuated by the dim sunset orange of fire. Every feature, from her sloped cheek bones to her arched brows, was painted in a glossy light. Rosalie's expression was steady, her full lips set in an emotionless curve. But her frigging eyes were _smoldering, _the flecks of amber leaping in the shine.

_Damn. _Just _damn._

Where the _fuck _does she get off wearing something like that? And the way her hair fell and slipped effortlessly around her. The way she sparkled, shone, burned, _exploded _with overwhelming beauty made me want to punch the first wall I came upon. I wanted to scream, to run, to kill something, to frigging run up to her and crash her lips to mine so I could taste every inch of that full, red mouth and fill myself to the brim with amaretto burnt wood, _burnt, burnt _wood.

It could have been a trick of light, but I thought our eyes met for a moment. It was brief, awful millisecond, poignant and heavy. But it left me with a sort of vague awareness. Blondie had a plan.

I had no freaking idea what the hell it could possibly be, but there was something solid going on in the head of the unearthly beauty. And something about that reassured me. Maybe we could get through this. No one would find out. We would be in the clear. There would be no consequences.

Then, the lights flashed back on. I warily realized that the singing was over, that Bells had blown out her candles. Plastering a stupid smile on my face, I hoisted Nessie into a seat to the right of me, collapsing next to Seth on my left.

Everyone gradually settled down, each taking a seat at the table. Unfortunately, Blondie was in plain view. She sat down diagonal to me, her Hulk husband to her left and Bells to her right. Which put Bella and Edward directly across from Nessie and I. Simply spectacular. It was a recipe for freaking mutilation (mine via Ed and Emmett, that is.)

"So what's all this stuff you have to fill me in on, Nessie?"

"Oh my gosh, Uncle Jake! I started Latin this week. You wouldn't believe how cool it is. And it's a dead language, too, so Daddy and I can speak it to each other and it's like our secret code."

I grinned at her explanation. I had taken Latin in ninth grade, but I'm sure the little wonder girl was probably a million times better already. "Um…_Amas tu_?"

"_Amo te_, Uncle Jake. You're a bit rusty." She gleamed up at me, playing with the end of her curling bronze braid. I barked a small laugh, warmly ruffling the top of her head. This wasn't so bad. I could get through this by distraction alone. I could.

A quiet, tinkling laugh caught my attention and I cursed. Maybe I wouldn't make it through after all. I began taking mental notes, so that if I survived I could tell the Beauty Queen what exactly she_ was not _allowed to do. So far, just tonight, I had wearing that dress, wearing her hair down, entering via candlelight, and freaking laughing. Because Rosalie _rarely _let out anything remotely like a laugh. Most of the time it was just in mockery anyway, degrading me with some new dog comment.

When she did genuinely, truly laugh, it was an enchanting sound. So that was definitely on the list. What the hell was she laughing at anyway? I thought Emmett and she had some issues. I mean, they definitely did. Otherwise, I doubted what happened two weeks ago would have happened at all except ashamedly in my head.

But there she was, anyway, smiling coyly at her husband while he shared some joke with Charlie and Carlisle. I immediately should have looked away, but the way her mouth quirked in one corner, her eyes slitting with amusement, made my heart begin to pulse a little more. Blood pumped through it, racing to the tips of my fingers and back at the sight, how just _damn pretty _she looked when she was happy (or at least faking it), with her hair tumbling over her sloping shoulder. A brief flashing memory flickered in my mind: what exactly that curve where her shoulder and neck met tasted like and _my teeth pressing little indents in her throat like paving a trail as the rain rolls over my chest and sluices down, down, down…_

Panic immediately followed. I thought of everything possible to cover the flashing, heated memory: fur, paws, my pack, my dad, my car, my bike. I frowned, flashing a quick glance to Edward. The stony vampire lazily sipped dense scarlet from his wine glass, his hand grazing Bella's. By all appearances, he didn't catch the fleeting thought. I almost sighed in relief.

Esme served gnocchi, salad, and bread to Seth, Charlie, and I while everyone else was given refills on their creepy beverages. I dug into the pasta, grinning with an oozing mouthful at Nessie. She gasped in mock disgust, but I could see the edges of a smile on her face.

"Gross, Uncle Jake! We're at a _nice _dinner party. That means manners and etiquette apply."

Bella nudged Edward teasingly. "She's definitely your kid."

I jokingly gave her a toothy smile, gulping down another bite of the gnocchi and smearing sauce over my lips.

Bella shook her head bemusedly. Her gaze lingered for a second longer before turning back to her husband, but I caught a weird flash of some other sheathed emotion in her eyes. I tried to convince myself once more that something wasn't beneath the surface, that some undercurrent problem wasn't present, and that it didn't have to do with Blondie and I.

"Well you could try a little harder!" Nessie huffed, crossing her arms in mock disapproval. "How am I supposed to have a best friend who's covered in white wine reduction sauce?"

"I think you can cope." I flicked the end of her braid. "Not all of us can be perfect gentlemen."

"That doesn't mean you have to act like a dog, _Mutt_."

My pulse rose again, and I stopped chewing for a moment. Time yet again seemed to stretch over the following second, as I truly met Rosalie's shockingly amber eyes.

In that moment, I almost gave it away. I couldn't understand how she could play like that, how things could just be normal, how she was doing so damn fine. It wasn't fair. And I wanted to voice that, to _fuck_ with her perfect little life, just like she had with mine.

But in the following second, in the moment beyond her derogatory comment, behind her condescending gaze was something else. And somehow I knew to play along.

"Don't be jealous of my gnocchi, Ice Queen. I'd share some, but since you're kind of sans a digestive system…"

"Hardly. In fact, with the way you're slobbering all over the place, it makes me glad I can't eat." She leaned back, looking vaguely pleased. At her insult or at the fact that I was playing back, I didn't know. "If it would be easier for you, I could set up a nice bowl for you over in the corner. I know how much hands inconvenience you, Fido."

"Hey! No arguing at Mommy's birthday." Nessie demanded. I sighed loudly.

"Fine, fine. I'll be a good wolf man. As long as she's a civil leech for the rest of the evening."

"I don't make deals with filthy mutts. Too many fleas."

Yes she does, I thought suddenly. I quickly turned away, focusing my attention on whatever Seth and Esme were discussing. Anything not to look at _her_. Anything.

But it was too late. My eyes darted back, flicking from that _damnably_ sexy woman to her morbid brother and back to her again. She was focused elsewhere now, talking to Carlisle about something that really didn't peek my interest. Somewhere between words, she took a sip of her wine glass, letting the cool red lap at her lips. A small droplet lingered on the bottom, and she quickly ran her tongue over the edge to slip it into her mouth.

That was enough to ruin everything.

My mind raced, flashing between every possible distraction I could think of: my car and its chink in the left side that needed to be fixed _clearing the mud off her body so she was like a blank canvas that I could plaster myself over and paint something gruesome and hungry and needed and _pizza and how much I liked three meat pizza and how I should order some later and _everything was slick and we fell to the ground and the dead leaves circled us like a hellish halo circling us for sin _and I didn't think I could fake anymore because this _FUCKING _game was way too much for me to play anymore. I lose.

I waited, expecting Edward to point a finger, to reveal the truth, for Emmett to leap across the table and rip my head off.

Nothing happened.

I risked a cautionary glance at Edward. He sat just the same, sipping his blood. However, I noticed he seemed vaguely strained, like he was trying to do or think something, but his head couldn't quite wrap around it.

I shoveled more food in my mouth, my eyes darting up at him once more. This time, I became aware very suddenly that, despite the fact that she was jovially talking to Seth, Bella seemed ever more strained. Like she was concentrating very, very hard.

And it came together very quickly.

Edward couldn't hear a damn thing I thought.

Bella was blocking my mind.

Which could really only mean one thing. She knew.

Maybe not everything, but she was definitely aware that I needed some serious mind blockage. And maybe Rosalie needed it too. All this meant something else, probably more terrifying all together.

Rosalie told her.

Blondie had given away some part of the secret, some part of that clandestine meeting under stormy skies and canopy cover and _water cascading over every inch slithering down my hair in serpentine strings that creep across her ivory skin and coil around us with slippery suffocation _and there I went again so thank goodness Captain Glitter couldn't hear or see a damn scene that ran through my mind. This home theatre was vacant. I would have felt smug if it wasn't for the fact that Bella _fucking _knew. My best friend _knew _I was messing around with her married sister-in-law and prematurely cheating on her daughter. Wow.

The fact that she wasn't currently gutting me in front of a table full of bloodthirsty vampires was a bona-fide miracle.

How I made it through the rest of the dinner keeping my composure, I will never know. Somehow, I managed to play around with Nessie, smile with Seth, crack witty jokes at no one in particular, and scarf down four heaping slices of birthday cake.

There were a couple things, though, that I avoided like the bubonic plague. Number one on that list was look at Bella or Edward. Number two was even attempt another crack at Blondie.

I refused to acknowledge her existence lest I simultaneously gape at her freaking unearthly beauty and scream full blast at her for apparently deciding it was a personal choice over whether or not we should tell anyone.

And really, it almost worked until the very end of the dinner.

The moment I sensed the festivities coming to a close, I slapped my napkin on the table. "Well, you ready to roll, Seth? I've got one serious food coma coming on and my bed is calling."

"Yeah, man, just a sec." Seth turned to finish a conversation with Charlie and Alice. I fidgeted a little, flicking at on of the ruffles of Nessie's skirt.

"Uncle Jake, do you have to leave so quickly? I wanted to show you something I painted a few days ago."

Though I really wanted to go wolf and hightail the hell out of there, this would have to do for a moment. "Sure, Nessie, let's go see it."

The young girl took my oversized hand in her miniscule one and dragged me out of the room. "Be right back! It's in my studio."

"You have a studio? Geez, young lady, you are turning out to be quite the multi-talented type."

"A regular Renaissance girl." She smiled. I didn't bother to ask what that meant.

We sidled quickly through the maze of the Cullen mansion, though I purposely dragged a bit. "Uncle Jake, you are so slow. You're like black and white Godzilla."

I chuckled at that. The kid was obviously becoming freakishly smart, but thank goodness she was still sharp on the important things. "Does that make you Tokyo?" I quipped, giving her a sloppy grin and pretending to lumber toward her like a monster.

"Wow, Mutt, I believe that's the first_ almost_ clever thing I've ever heard you say." A deadpan voice announced from behind me. The discs of my spine curled immediately, and my muscles clenched in a mix of nerves and innate wildness.

I turned on my heel, purposely keeping my gaze low, staring directly at a pair of glossy stilettos. "You stalking us, Ice Queen?"

"Stalking. You." I could tell by her stance that Rosalie was crossing her arms. "Dream on, Fido."

"I'm going to show Uncle Jake my painting. Do you want to come see it too, Aunt Rosalie? You were off hunting when I made it! Daddy says it's post-impressionistic." Nessie piped in, completely unaware of the thick, _damnably _thick tension between us.

"I'll look at it later, sweetie. I'm just going to my room to get your Mom's present."

"_Alright_." Nessie drew it out teasingly, pretending to be miffed. She then took off at a skip in the direction of her "studio." I turned to follow her down the hall. At the same moment, though, Rosalie passed me swiftly, turning a different corner.

It was a motion almost invisibly quick, but the impression of ice and stone and smooth silken skin that drifted across my right hand was there. She was gone, but she left something in my hand.

I followed Nessie without pause, stealthily taking the opportunity to peak at the small slip of paper in my palm. It took less than a second to read the unfolded piece.

_The woods. 2 AM. You know where._

I didn't miss a beat, tucking the slip in my pocket and following my soul mate. I couldn't help but feel that a small part of me was following in the opposite direction, though. A familiar hunger began to stir in my belly, one that had nothing to do with food.


	6. Empty Spaces

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 6: Empty Spaces**

AN: Well, I finally have an excuse as to why this is so late in the coming. First of all, I went to Europe. Second of all, while I was in Europe, I realized this is going to be a bit longer and end differently than how it was intended to. So, needless to say, this was very hard to write, considering my plans are totally different. That being said, I also have to apologize if this chapter is awkward. Jacob and the mood of the story are no longer working out together, so he's becoming very hard to write properly. Thankfully, next chapter goes back to Rose, so it should shift into a more coherent place. Augh. Also, I had to finally spell out Nessie's name. Kill myself. And Bella. For naming her child that.

A steady hum ran through the woods, a percussive pulse for every side-winding turn I made around the trees. I moved like a snake, or something equally sure-as-hell creepy, slithering in between underbrush and low branches like air.

When I was a wolf, the forest was a different place for me. I didn't run through it like a home, like it was my natural habitat. I moved through it like gas in a car, like the woods breathed for me. I felt like I was the energy that the forest haven lived for, to bend and to hold and to embrace my every whim. It was quite the sensation, to say the least.

But my mind was dragging miles away from the way the dead leaves and mud molded around my paws. That night, my only focus was the crumpled note in the pocket of the jeans around my ankle.

_The woods. 2 AM. You know where._

I did know where. And I brought pants this time.

As I drew closer to the clearing, that weirdly sloped vacancy in the forest that I hadn't seen in weeks, I felt a nervous clenching in the pit of my belly. What did she want?

An explanation as to why in the _hell _Bella knew would be a nice place to start. From there, I didn't really give a damn.

Well, maybe that wasn't true. It would be nice to know what had been going on in that pretty little blonde head of hers, considering it seemed I was number one on her list of people to avoid.

As I drew near, I winced as a sharp whiff filled my noise. Crap. She was already there. Amaretto hit my senses first, causing my mouth to water a little. The strange taste of ashen wood followed, and I quickly morphed out of wolf form lest I simultaneously groaned and gagged on the overwhelming odor.

Slipping into the pair of ragged jeans that had been tied around my leg, I made the final steps, breaching the clearing.

The place was a mess.

Huge branches were snapped, the mud was stirred up in arches, and what little grass was there was totally upturned. A few of the trees were splintered and hunched like they were old people, sans the cane. I suppressed the bizarre urge to laugh, because, _damn _we had done a number on the place.

I hadn't really noticed afterwards, as we were too busy having an extremely awkward parting. The memory flashed through my mind every now and then, the way her eyes had darted about when she came back to her senses, how I kind of wanted to jump headfirst off a cliff with hopes that my wolf healing superpowers would be on vacation for the moment.

Remorse. That had been first and foremost on both our minds as we parted, barely sparing a few words. I remembered running from the clearing in human form, lest the agony and guilt rushing through my head like a cattle stampede tip my pack off to my not-so-sanctioned activities.

We had betrayed our friends and our loved ones.

So it was time to take the next step and talk this out.

I made a quick scan of the place and realized it was empty. Even though every crevice of the clearing reeked of Blondie, the bloodsucking woman herself was nowhere to be seen. I frowned tightly. What was her game?

The haphazard crunching of leaves to my left stirred my attention.

I expected a halo of golden curls and a lithe body and darkening amber eyes, but instead got someone that sent a punch through my gut. Brown hair and an exquisitely sad gaze caught sight of me.

Shoving my hands in my pockets awkwardly, I cautiously regarded my best friend.

"Hey, Bells."

She stopped a lengthy distance away, glancing around the clearing and shaking her head. Her face was a shifting sampler, running from sad to furious to disgusted. After an extremely silent pause, she spoke.

"This is it, Jake?"

"Yeah." I didn't know how to react. What kind of question was that? I felt sheepish, definitely, but also very wary. This wouldn't be good.

"Nice place to fuck up our lives."

The curse word was like a foreign language coming from her. She'd been my best friend for several, several years, and I hadn't heard anything that harsh except once or twice when she was pissed as hell at me. Which I guess would be now. I winced, looking down at my grimy feet. "You know everything?"

It took a moment for Bella to muster a response. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Her voice sounded wet and uneven, and I knew if she still had the ability to cry, she would be right that moment.

"She told you?"

All I got was a nod that time, because a flash of anger had taken over her otherwise lovely features. She crossed her arms, a move I had seen her do multiple times when she felt uneasy, or, in this case, didn't want to explode with rage.

"_Why _did she tell you?" I could have immediately started out on an apology, but I needed to know the truth. I needed to know why my mistakes were being spread without my consent. Why I was tainted forever to my best friend and mother of my imprint.

Bella snapped then. "Isn't it obvious, Jake? You're a guy, and you're clearly just too _damn _idiotic to control your hormones. She asked me to protect you around the others. She told me to save you from being ripped to shreds, which I'm actually pretty sure you deserved. I've considered doing it _myself_, because you've really made an incomparable ass of yourself. Both of you have." At that point, she was practically seething. I had rarely ever seen Bella this mad before.

"I know." I muttered, and then repeated louder. "I know. You're right. I'm sorry. You're totally right. I just…I mean, you don't understand what's been going on… You just don't—"

"Don't even_ bother_." She hissed, shaking her head. "You're seriously making excuses, Jake? _Seriously_? Do you really even get how despicable what you've done is?" She moved forward quickly, standing me down. "You helped Rose permanently screw up her marriage. You betrayed the confidence of everyone around you. You _practically _cheated on my daughter before she's even old enough to understand how you two will feel about each other one day. You betrayed me, _me_, who will eventually trust you with my daughter's life and happiness. And you really, really want to make _excuses_?"

I reared back, my fists clenching. "What do you _want _me to _fucking _say? There's nothing I can do to fix what I did! I know how bad it was and I know it was wrong, but _hell_, Bella, what can I do to change it? I _can't_. There's nothing. Absolutely nothing. I can only ask for forgiveness, and I don't think anyone will give it. Why the _fuck _did you even bother shielding my mind?"

Bella trembled, and I wondered for a moment if she would jump me with her teeth bared. "I owed her."

I felt like I had been sucker-punched, because that was the last thing I thought she would say. Hell, I would have taken "she paid me in diamonds" over that. "_What_?"

Bella cleared her throat, which was something that always took me by surprise these days. It was such a thoroughly human thing to do.

"When I was pregnant with Renesmee." Her voice was quiet now in a disturbing way. It vaguely reminded me of a snowy moment in the woods many years ago when I was convinced she should be mine. But now I had an imprint. And that changed Bella to me. Bella was the second closest woman to my heart, supposedly, the closest thing to a bloodsucking sister I could possibly have, pissed as hell as she was.

But there was, of course, the obvious problem of Blondie leeching her way through every nerve shock in my brain.

"When you were pregnant…" I wasn't catching on, and could she blame me? I certainly wasn't feeling freaking coherent at the moment. It was the dead of night, and I was arguing with my best friend about my _damn _affair with her sister in law in the middle of the woods. Not exactly an equation to make my mind function on an active pace.

"Edward wanted Renesmee out. Because she was hurting me." Bella explained, no longer looking at me. She instead stared emptily up through the black canopy and at the gloomy deep blue of the sky. "I needed someone to protect me. To protect my child."

"I remember." My voice was hoarse now, because I knew where she was going. How could I forget the moment where I first laid eyes on my imprint? The baby had gazed back just as trustingly, knowing I would guard her with my life. But I certainly didn't forget the other factor. Nessie had been leaning over a shoulder draped with a gleaming golden halo of hair. The woman who would rip a marriage to shreds over her desire to mother a child.

"Rosalie was the only one who would stand up for me. So when she told me about you, about the _damn _'situation' you had got yourselves into, I first considered ripping your throat out before living a life of misery missing your hairy hide." I almost laughed dryly at her insult, but she continued. "But I was obligated to help. I owed her, Jacob. And she hates herself for redeeming that favor like this. And I _hate_ you for making me."

The admittance, the spiteful description of how deep-as-hell _angry _she was at me shocked me. This was Bella, my Bella, the girl who I thought would love me always in some way, because she was my closest friend, my sister. But because of what I had done, she _hated _me. Bella Cullen _hated _me.

My response was frigid. "Then why _fucking _bother? Why not just lay back and wait for the inevitable? Let Alice figure out the gaps in her visions. Let Edward pick up my memories. Why not let Emmett rip me to pieces if you can't it?"

She was suddenly in front of me, and with a much held back swipe, she bruised my cheek with a slap. And held back it certainly was, as I was sure she could knock my whole jaw out in one second.

Then, bizarrely, as I reeled from the stinging of half my face, her arms were around me in a quick embrace. I was too shocked to return it.

Bella stepped back and regarded me with full seriousness. "Because I still love you, Jake. Even if I hate your guts right now." She glanced over her shoulder, as though she heard something. "Fix this. Please. For all our sakes."

And then she was gone.

I was alone for a long time, my gaze haphazardly tracing the hazy black forms of the trees. They were indistinguishable from one another, reaching up over me and caging me in. I wasn't the master in this clearing. I was the slave, and everything I burned for was chaining me to the slippery mud floor. I didn't know how to escape this trap I had dug myself into.

It was only after a grumble of distant thunder that rolled through every fiber of my body, only after the sky was laced with a streak of heat lightning that I knew _she _was here.

I didn't turn around, but the fresh wave of her smell flowed with the thunder and hit me like a direct blow.

"The rain will be here soon."

Her voice was heaven, and I wanted to kill myself for the gut reaction to turn mark her as my own once again. Through all this mess I had wrapped myself in, it was purely ironic that she was becoming the only refuge, the last battlement against the onslaught of the storm.

I tried a million questions, before words finally left my mouth. And they weren't at all what I wanted to say. "_Come here_."

And she did. When she was in my sightline, I was consumed for a moment. The night sheathed her well, making her skin lean to a certain lustrous bluish tint. Her eyes were dark, a fact that had escaped me earlier that evening. She wasn't taking care of herself. She looked so calm and eerie, obviously sullen and wracked with hunger at the same time.

I moved to touch her, and I didn't know why. Maybe just a flick of her skin, and I'd know what to do next. She snapped away quickly.

"Don't _touch _me." Her voice was meant to be a hiss, but it came out afraid. As though she thought that if I did, something unsavory would happen.

"Rosalie." I didn't know why I said her name, but it tasted good on my tongue, the same way it had on that day in the clearing, when she had reaped it from my mouth. I wanted to say it again, wanted to say it forever. Because it fed my hunger, it calmed my blood rush, it sated my dizzy stupor. "_Rosalie_."

"I have to go hunting." She explained suddenly, and I realized what she meant by telling me that. No reprisals. The last time had been after hunting. It had been an animal impulse, and she wanted her head clear for when we finally spoke. Finally made sense of the pieces of the mess.

"Don't avoid me after. I'm not going to wait much longer." I took a breath. "I understand why you told Bella, but we can't go on without talking. This has to be fixed by both of us."

She was even further back into the woods, and her eyes were as black as the empty spaces between the trunks and branches. "I know, Jacob." I thought she was about to turn and run, when she said something else that surprised me. "Later. As soon as I'm back."

And then she left. The rain began hesitantly, just a few droplets. By the time it was pouring, I was home in my bed again, listening to the pounding against the world. I didn't sleep for a long time. An hour or two before dawn, after the rain died slowly and all that remained was the slow dripping of water from my roof, my window opened, the glass noiselessly shifting just enough.

Rosalie slid in, bringing with her the scent of blood on her mouth.

AN: Again, I apologize if Jake and Bella are weird here. I don't really enjoy Bella, so choosing a reaction was a little difficult. I figured mad as hell, but loving in the end would sum it up. Even so. REVIEW.


	7. Reprieve

**The Dying Evergreen**

**Chapter 7: Reprieve**

AN: Woof. This chapter is rough. Honestly this is just getting rough. I'm not sure where to go anymore. Eck. Anyone have any suggestions? Anyway, someone said that Bella was only being angry towards Jakey. That's explained. And FINALLY they get a little happiness. A little. IMPORTANT: This is from Rose's perspective again. Yar.

When the sun finally slipped over the tree line, weak orb that it was behind a veil of cloud cover, it split across the glass pane like water hitting full force, splintering into singular rays. Only a meager portion made it through the thick grain of the window, infusing a glow into every lingering drop of rain. Even less light made its way through the slit in the heavy mahogany curtains, creeping across the bed. What little that did come in stole across my face, causing it to gleam like diamond. For a flitter of a second, I was thankful I was a creature without a sleep cycle.

That quickly passed as a throaty moan rumbled from the person behind me, the _living, sleeping_ person. My eyes flickered shut for a heavy moment. The previous evening had been one of many where I finished the early hours of the morning by dropping into a dead weight trance of exhaustion, the fantasy of sleep taunting me at the edges of my mind.

It was a flirtation, really, just out of reach for the dead.

I opened my eyes again as another half-snore came from my bed partner, and I glanced over.

Jacob looked terrible. For someone who was normally entrancing to the point of being almost beautiful, he certainly was an interesting sight in the morning.

His longish raven hair stuck up in every direction possible, and a shadow of facial hair had formed over night. His lids were tightly shut, but I could see his eyes flicking around behind them, clearly in the thick of a dream. A small line of drool trickled out the side of his mouth, and I smiled for a brief second. It quickly faded when I glanced around the room and remembered that not only was I in wolf territory, but I was in the bed of the man with whom I had cheated on my husband with.

I wrung my hands, running my tongue along my lips. It wasn't as though there had been a repeat. Nothing had happened but sleeping the previous night. I had nothing to be sorry about here. I needed to talk to him, that was it.

Even so, my throat clenched oddly, and my nonexistent stomach circumvented itself into a knot. It was simply an odd feeling, being in such a forbidden place. Sitting in his bed like I belonged there.

But it was more than odd, wasn't it? It was unholy, my presence marring this very normal dwelling of the living, the flesh and blood. Was this what Edward had felt like when the first few times he had visited Bella in her home? No, no he couldn't have, because that was love. This, whatever this was, was not love. Want. Lust. Need. But not love. Never love.

I closed my eyes again, moving up into a sitting position. The sheets bunched around my feet, and I brushed down the bottom of the loose pajama pants I wore. In the corner of the room, my filthy, soaked clothing from the previous night hung on a clothes hook over his hamper, still rumpled despite being virtually dry.

When I had finally made it to his house, the rain had become a dying trickle. Even so, I was still drenched. My presence in wolf territory couldn't go unnoticed for much longer, as I'm sure I left a fairly obvious trail of scent with the water that had run off my skin.

My eyes stole back to Jacob as he made another groan, rolling onto his stomach. I looked away as his taut tan skin clenched over his large back muscles.

The previous night had been awkward to say the least.

I felt underhanded and cruel, letting him be accosted by Bella like that, thinking I would meet him. But as I was already forcing her to protect us, I owed her the clandestine confrontation.

Wincing, I remembered haltingly the panic that had convinced me telling her was the right thing to do. I had almost slipped many times with Edward. Even a mention of the Mutt's name had tangible memories running through my mind. At times I was sure he knew, that somehow I hadn't been careful enough, that he at least suspected something. The panic and distraught emotions that tangled with my everyday life convinced me I needed more time. I needed to think, but it seemed discovery had been clenching in, clawing around my throat and squeezing. I had to get help. There had been nowhere else to turn.

I was still honestly surprised Bella had agreed, especially given her personal involvement.

She had certainly been absolutely infuriated, which had been an odd thing to witness. Never in our half-hearted friendship had she been so angry with me. And I didn't blame her. We had betrayed her child. If I were Nessie's mother, I would have been just as right in my ferocity.

I had taken her deep into the woods almost a week ago and confessed the truth. The crime I had committed. We were far enough out that Bella could yell and curse as much as she wanted, and that she did. I took it, accepting that the loss of her love would be the first casualty in a long line of victims.

And yet, she had agreed to shield our minds.

Bella had given us a momentary miracle, a chance to figure out the mess we had made before the tide turned dangerously.

I would never know how to repay her for her infinitely more gracious favor she had given me.

And so I let her talk to him, let her get out what she needed to. It was her right. When I approached him after, I immediately was overcome by the inclination that I couldn't stand the sight of him. His heaving chest, his sorrowful eyes. I couldn't be near him when I was hungry. Not like last time.

My burning for blood had married itself with another more primal burning, one that I refused to give into a second time. So I delayed our conversation once more and sated myself throughout the night on the pungent scent of rain and the coursing rush of blood from a bear's rent throat.

When I was sufficiently sane, and there was no threat of repercussions for approaching him in a state of want, I made my way to the Black residence.

At this point, the treaty was only a technical matter with Sam's pack. Jacob had demanded his house and the surrounding outskirts be considered his territory, one that both vampires and wolves could tread. His soul mate was, after all, half vampire.

I was extremely cautious to only cross into Jacob's territory, as I knew Sam's would be patrolled. Even though I was sure I would be detected eventually, it would be well worth it to get this over with and figure out what in _hell_ we were going to do.

By the time I reached Jacob's window, it was only a few hours before dawn. The storm rolled away, leaving a weighty mist in its stead. The iron taste still lingering on my tongue in no way masked the swelling odor of pine and honeysuckle that slithered and merged around everything in this area. Instead, the intoxicating scent had permeated my skin. I groaned slightly before grasping the window. Staying sane would be harder than I thought.

The window easily opened, obviously being left unlocked. He had been hoping I really would come to him, that my promise would be direct and literal.

When I entered the dark room, dripping with water and filth, I met his dark eyes immediately. He was awake and waiting.

Yet again, if I had had the ability, I would have flushed. The sheets rippled around his feet, leaving his sweat pants exposed. They hung low on his hips, exposing the angular curves that rose up to encase a perfectly sculpted torso and unbelievably handsome face.

My throat made a motion somewhat like gulping. Emmett was lovely, statuesque. But Jacob had an effect on me that he had never had. Jacob was warm and tan, pliable, calloused, feral. I was completely glad that I had sated my thirst for blood, because he was stirring me again, moving me about, making me dizzy with compulsion.

Jacob had been exhausted at that point, I noticed immediately. His eyes would often droop, despite the fact that every open eyed glance seemed to suck me in, taste me.

After he awkwardly offered me a change of clothes, I quickly took them to his adjoining bathroom. I was not prudish or mistrusting enough to think that he would actually watch me change, but the very idea of being undressed again in his presence was cause for an insatiable appetite to rise again. I wasn't sure that _I _could handle it.

When I had returned in his clothing, after deciding to take a quick shower as well, I noticed that Jacob was struggling to stay awake, though every bit of attention he paid me was hungry.

It took a bit of quiet arguing, but I finally convinced him he needed to sleep and be in his right mind if we were to have the discussion.

I considered standing, sitting on his desk chair, anything but lounging on the bed while he slept. But, before he nestled under the weighty comforter, he grabbed my hand and tugged me down beside him. The touch was strange. I didn't resist, seating myself next to him.

I held his hand until he dozed off, and even then didn't let go until he did himself, turning over in his sleep. The contact had been absurd in a way. It was like taking a sip of scotch for the first time since recovering from a long, punishing bout of alcoholism. It had not incited me necessarily to plunge headfirst into satiating myself again, but had instead felt familiar, something from a long forgotten memory or passing, intangible dream.

I liked it.

And now, I waited patiently for him to rise.

Only three or so hours had passed since he finally fell asleep, so I figured I had a few more to kill. Moving cautiously off the edge of the bed, I silently strode to his meager desk area. They were only a few books scattered across the surface, and a few more leaning against the side. They would have to do. I hadn't taken the Mutt for a reader anyway.

Though they were mostly school related, I was pleasantly surprised to see a copy of Edith Hamilton's _Mythology_. Next to it, Virgil's _Aeneid _lay haphazardly. Probably another school assignment, I presumed. Settling myself back on the bed, I begin to read.

An indefinable amount of time passed before Jacob's breathing became a bit more deliberate, and I knew he was awake.

"A little early for ancient poetry, don't you think, Blondie?" His voice was low and wet with fleeting sleep, but his teasing comment was articulate and annoying.

"I was bored of waiting for your beauty coma to end." I quipped back just as quickly, not looking up from the pages of the book. The bed shifted next to me, and I could tell he was closer.

"What's you favorite part? I'm assuming you've read it before."

The question surprised me, as it sounded like he almost actually cared.

"The section in Ethiopia. Before Aeneas leaves Dido."

"Ah." Jacob gave out a hearty yawn before continuing. "The romance, inevitably ending in suicide and tragedy. How predictably Beauty Queen of you."

I arched an eyebrow, putting down the worn novel. "I'm surprised you've actually read it, Fido. I didn't think you processed anything higher than Clifford the Big Red Dog."

"Funny." He nudged me slightly, and I finally glanced down at him. He lay on his side, propping his messy mop of raven hair on his right arm. I unfortunately didn't stop my eyes from trailing to his clenched bicep, then his dark clavicle, following the curve down to every inch of his generously displayed skin. Darting my eyes back to the folded book, I pretended it hadn't happened.

Jacob must have noticed that I checked him out once again, and annoyingly banked on it. His huge palm was suddenly at my cheek, cupping my chin and turning me to face him. I hissed in aggravation, because this was just _too damn _close. His brandy brown eyes skirted across my lips before settling back on my own gaze.

Before I could consider murdering him right there to fix everything, he said something that surprised me. "Thank you for coming."

Oh. I hadn't expected that. "You're welcome." I whispered back, before turning away hesitantly. No repeat, no repeat. I was determined.

He continued to regard me, rising to a sitting position. "I like your hair like this."

"Like what?" I snapped. Really, we should have been getting on with the conversation. He seemed bent on distracting me, and that wouldn't do.

"Natural. I mean, you haven't done anything with it since you showered. It's nice."

I didn't reply, dropping the forlorn book to the nightstand, and wringing my palms together once again. We couldn't play like this. This had to be talked out. Now. Before hunger rose in me again.

I kicked the sheets off my legs, figuring it would be easier to be on the bed with him than _in _it. "Jacob."

"Rosalie." It was teasing again, but Jacob spoke with a tense seriousness that displayed his dread towards the coming conversation. But the way he said it, the way he uttered my name also betrayed a certain sort of hopefulness. A certain sense that he wanted to say it again, that he wanted it to be exclusively his to say.

"How do people do this?" I asked suddenly.

"I don't know," he replied, "but we're not regular people."

"I know, I just mean I don't even know where to start."

We sat in companionable silence for a moment as I gathered my thoughts.

"Do you regret it?" He started.

The question was something I had had in mind, but didn't say due to the possibility of causing the conversation to get hostile. Apparently, Jacob wasn't one for subtlety.

"_Yes_." I answered hoarsely, and I noticed that his entire composure dropped immediately. He didn't like that answer. I didn't know why, but I immediately amended it. "But that doesn't mean I didn't want it. Want you."

It was bizarre admission to make out loud, one that I had dreaded, one that I thought would be impossible to voice.

"I don't like that we inevitably are hurting people in our lives." Jacob dropped off the sentence, his fist bunching the material on his thigh.

"But?"

"But I don't regret it. Not in the same way you do."

"Oh."

What exactly did that mean, anyway? I certainly didn't, _couldn't_, believe that he had feelings for me. Our _thing _(because it was _not _a romance) had been volatile, in the moment, almost violent. We had splintered trees, damn it. There was no room for emotion. It had been solely about the physical: the skin-on-skin contact, lighting fires in the mud, the pulse that I had so craved to run my mouth over, feeling the beat on my tongue.

There had been not a split second for me to think about—to think, really. I had been driven entirely by instinct. But apparently, he hadn't.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" I asked harshly. My assumptions had been made so solidly that they almost became fact to me. The sex was just about sex. There was nothing else. And now, what could I do with another complication?

"Chill, Blondie." He sounded bemused, nudging my tense shoulder with his own. "It's not like I'm down on one knee or anything." The image that came with that quip made my insides do all sorts of strange acrobatic contortions.

Jacob continued earnestly, "I just mean that I kind-of-sort-of don't hate you." He cleared his throat, breaking through the early morning huskiness. "It wasn't just about the sex. I wanted—_want_—you, and I don't really understand it. I mean, we didn't make love or anything."

I made a noise somewhat like a snort. That was for sure.

"But even though we did what we did, I'm not full. I mean, the hunger's not gone. I want more. But I don't know what to make of that. And I don't know what to do with it." He finished, toying aimlessly with thread at the hem of the loose shirt I was wearing.

When the sun had snaked over my face that morning, I certainly hadn't thought Jacob Black would be the braver of us. I had thought we would call it quits easily, say we had sated ourselves and it was over, and it would never happen again. That nothing would ever happen again.

But it wasn't that easy.

Because at that moment, when I looked over to him again, it wasn't his flawlessly toned stomach, the soft expansion and fall of his chest, or the daring architecture of his throat that made me want him.

It was the way the corner of his lips quirked, the hearth in his eyes.

I still wanted Jacob Black, and it wasn't just physical.

_Damn_.

And he had been the first to say it.

So I was the first to take his hand in my own, to lean forward. Though I frowned severely, I ghosted his hot mouth with my own.

"I don't know how to quit you."

I felt his smile turn into an unsettling grimace, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he finished my motion by moving the miniscule distance forwards and kissing me with a chaste, tentative motive. I cautiously returned it, letting our lips taste languidly for what felt like the first time. We had been so rushed, so animal, that I couldn't really recall what it felt like to just have the light pressure, the slight contact. His balmy breath pooled between us, serpentine across my mouth in a delicious way.

"That makes two of us, Blondie."

AN: Reviews please! And also, anyone have any bright ideas? My outline for this has gone under so many reconstructions, I'm basically Christmas treeing until I have to get to a point where I need to decide how this ends. So excuse the craziness of all this. AND btw, they're not smexing again in the end. Noooot where that was going. In case anyone thought so.


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